How Not to Die
by Shakespeare's Lemonade
Summary: When Oliver returns to Starling City after five years, he's not alone. Oliver's crusade against corruption and Slade's search for his family lead them both to the same place. But it's going to be a harder fight than either of them have faced before. Meanwhile Laurel and Thea face challenges as they try to help the city in their own ways. Alternate Universe. Olicity. Laurel/OC.
1. Haunted House

A/N: AU of seasons 1 and 2, mostly. Sara died when the ship went down, and Oliver chose to cure Slade of the Mirakuru at the end of the season 2 flashbacks. This story also features an OC created by Riter's Fury for her story "The Darkest Part" (which is awesome; you should read it) who she let me use. He shows up in chapter two.

Pairings: Oliver/Felicity, Slade/Adeline, Laurel/OC, John/Lyla, Thea/Roy

 **Chapter One "Haunted House"**

"Sorry about your eye," Oliver said as the island faded in the distance.

Slade grunted a vague reply.

The fishing boat rocked from side to side, making Oliver wish he'd come up with another plan for getting off the island. One that didn't involve so much tossing and rolling across the ocean. He'd had enough of that.

"Are you sure this deception is strictly necessary?" Slade asked, though it was more of a critique than a question.

"Would you want to tell your family where you've been all this time?" Oliver replied.

"I'd want to tell my family anything."

Oliver should have expected that. In the past three years with all their comings and goings from the island, Slade still hadn't been able to discover the whereabouts of his wife and son. He suspected they had gone into hiding after his disappearance. From what Oliver could gather of how little Slade talked about them, his wife was some kind of super-spy too which would make finding them more difficult. Oliver had promised to help in any way he could, but his entanglements with ARGUS and the Russian mob had made that a bit difficult. But that was all over now. They were going back to Starling City. It was time to fulfill his father's last wish and his promise to Slade.

Oliver looked back at the shadow of Lian Yu as it disappeared into the fog. "I almost thought we'd never really leave," he said.

Slade looked at him with a bemused expression. "We won't," he said.

"Can you be positive about anything, ever?"

"Can you be realistic?" Slade shot back.

"In a non-metaphorical sense, yes."

"Physically leaving the island isn't leaving the island, kid. I've got a feeling you'll never really leave it behind, and I know I won't."

Oliver waved his hand dismissively. "But there will be showers and comfortable beds and food that doesn't come out of a can or the woods."

"Thought you liked my cooking." Slade smirked.

Oliver shook his head and stared out at the sea around them. He couldn't wait to be off the water and on solid land again. His detours to Hong Kong and Russia hadn't exactly been a relief from the nightmare of the last five years. But Slade was right; going home wouldn't be a picnic either. He was going to have to come up with a convincing story for his family and get started on his father's list. And then there was Laurel. Oliver didn't have the first idea how to talk to her or if she would even give him the chance. Probably not.

###

From the high vantage point of the hospital window, Starling City looked deceptively similar to the way Oliver remembered it. He knew a lot must have changed in the past five years. His one visit back hadn't been pleasant, and he worried about what he might find even in his own family. He couldn't put it off any longer, though. His mother would be there any minute. He'd talked to her briefly on the boat, but this would be the real reunion.

Oliver heard her coming before she even opened the door. He had to remind himself not to react as if every noise were a threat. He turned slowly, trying to smile, to reassure her he was okay. He wasn't, but she couldn't know that. She hugged him and cried, and Oliver cried too. After all this time, he hadn't anticipated how good it would feel to be with his family again, even if everything was wrong.

"Mom," Oliver said pulling away so he could look her in the eye.

"What is it, Oliver?" She was still worried. As if he might disappear from her arms again.

He smiled for real this time. "There's someone I want you to meet. He's the reason I'm still alive. I was thinking..."

"What?" Moira smiled now that they were talking, now that it felt real.

"I was thinking maybe Slade could stay with us for a while."

"Slade?"

"My friend. The one who kept me alive on—on the island."

"Of course," Moira said quickly. "Don't worry about anything, Oliver. I'll call ahead and make sure there's a room prepared for him. And I'll tell Raisa to set another place at dinner."

"I'll see if I can convince him," Oliver joked.

A few minutes later, Oliver was dressed and ready to leave the hospital. They walked down the hallway and into the next room where Slade was nowhere to be seen.

"It's just me," Oliver said loudly. "Please don't knock my mother out with a bedpan."

Moira stared wide-eyed at Oliver.

He caught a flash of movement to the right behind his mom. Slade stepped out from behind the door, already fully dressed.

"It doesn't hurt to be careful," he said.

Moira's gaze turned on him, magnifying her shocked expression. With the eyepatch, the scruffy beard, and hiding behind the door, Slade did look kind of terrifying.

"Mom, this is Slade Wilson," Oliver said, trying to keep his tone of voice light. "He was stranded on the island too."

Slade offered his hand. "Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Queen."

"Um, yes..." Moira stammered, shaking his hand. "Oliver says you saved his life."

Slade glanced at Oliver with a triumphant expression. "Did he say that?"

"Maybe not in so many words," Oliver replied.

"Whatever the case," Moira said. "If there's anything I can do to thank you, please let me know."

"Dinner is already a given," Oliver said. "And you can stay with us while you're here."

"It's more than enough." Slade directed his comment to Moira. "Oliver saved my life almost as many times as I saved his."

Moira looked from Slade to Oliver, and her smile widened. "Let's get you two out of here."

She led the way out into the hall, and Oliver and Slade came behind her.

"You gonna carry that thing with you everywhere?" Slade asked, glancing at the case Oliver was carrying.

"Just a little while longer. Until I find a place for it."

Slade nodded knowingly and didn't say any more. They couldn't talk about Oliver's plans out in the open like this, but it was nice to know someone knew what he was doing, someone he could trust and not worry about.

They reached the limo, and on the way back to the house, Moira talked about what had changed in the past five years. She seemed to sense that neither Oliver nor Slade felt much like talking and filled the silence herself so they wouldn't feel awkward. She was good with people like that.

As they approached the house, Slade looked out the window, and his single eye widened slightly at the sight of the mansion. Oliver hadn't bothered describing his family's home since it didn't seem relevant, but now that he thought of it, it might have been a good idea to prepare Slade. Maybe give him some blueprints or something so he knew where all the exits and weak points were.

Oliver stopped himself as he was beginning to imagine an enemy siege on the house. It was the paranoia talking.

They all got out of the car and headed inside. As Oliver expected, Slade was taking everything in as if to be ready for a quick escape. In the entryway, a man Oliver vaguely remembered approached them.

"Oliver!" he said. "It's damn good to see you."

Not knowing how to reply, Oliver merely stared in response.

"You remember Walter Steele? Your father's friend from the company," Moira said. "Walter, this is Slade Wilson."

Oliver wasn't really paying attention anymore. He was looking around the room, remembering everything from the life he had left behind five years ago. He heard footsteps overhead and moved toward the stairs. If he hadn't been back a couple of years ago and seen her, he wouldn't have recognized Thea now. She had grown from a little girl into a young woman. Oliver hoped she was doing better than the last time he had seen her.

She ran down the stairs and hugged him tightly. "I knew you were alive," she said. "I missed you so much."

"You were with me the whole time," Oliver lied. Of all things, he had avoided thinking about his family during the years of darkness and violence. In quiet moments, he considered what he was sparing them from, but he didn't dwell on the idea of them.

###

Everything from the limo ride to the mansion that looked more like a castle came as no shock to Slade. He had expected something like this, though he was aware of the irony in him being invited home for dinner. Oliver's mother hadn't asked a lot of questions; she was just happy to have her son back. But she would certainly ask eventually, and Slade needed to have a story. Ever since Oliver had proposed this plan of his, Slade hand been coming up with a plan for the occasion. His only concern now was acting the part he wanted to play. It took the full measure of his self control not to stalk all over the Queen mansion, analyzing every exit and strategic point. He settled for noting the nearby exits and windows and having a plan in case he needed to escape quickly. Realistically, he didn't see that happening, but his brain simply worked that way after so many years facing danger every day.

Oliver was on alert too until he reunited with his sister. Slade took up the slack, paying close attention to what Oliver's mother and Walter were saying. He wondered who this Mr. Merlyn was. But he would find out soon enough.

After everyone had been introduced, Thea led them upstairs. "We didn't exactly know you were coming," she said to Slade. "Because Ollie didn't say anything." Here she glared at her brother. "But Mom always keeps a few guest rooms ready."

"If it's any trouble—" Slade began.

"It's not. Honestly, this place feels like a haunted house sometimes with all the empty rooms. It'll be nice to have people here."

That wasn't ominous at all. Slade got the feeling Thea hadn't adjusted well to losing her father and brother at such a young age. He thought about Joe and wondered if the boy would even remember his father now.

"... and you'll be right here," Thea was saying as she gestured to a closed door.

Slade realized he had let his mind wander and forced himself back into the present. Oliver was standing next to another door that must have led to his own room.

"Let Raisa know if you need anything," Thea said as she turned to head back down the stairs.

"Thank you," Slade said, hoping she hadn't noticed his inattentiveness.

She smiled. "You're welcome. Dinner will be in about an hour."

As she left, Slade glanced over at Oliver who was still standing by his door, unmoving. It was almost as if he were afraid to open the door. His empty fingers twitched the way they always did when he didn't have a bowstring to rely on. Slade crossed the space between them and put his hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"Kid," he said.

Oliver turned his head as if surprised to find Slade there.

Slade nodded toward the door.

Taking a shaky breath, Oliver pushed the door open and walked into the room. He looked around the space as if he didn't recognize it.

Slade stood in the doorway. He noted the large window, a weak point. Several other doorways led to either closets or possibly a bathroom. More hiding places. He needed to stop thinking like this. Oliver needed to stop thinking like this.

"At least it's bigger than the plane," Slade said, trying to keep his tone light.

Oliver turned back to face him. "Heat and air conditioning too," Oliver joked, but his heart wasn't in it.

"And running water," Slade continued. "Might be nice to wash off the hospital smell."

"Yeah." Oliver nodded, his attention wavering as he gazed around the room again, staring out the window but not really seeing anything.

"Guess I'll get settled then."

Slade wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave Oliver alone, but he seemed to need some space to process everything. It was different for Slade. He wasn't home. This place was just as foreign to him as the island had been and just as easy to detach himself from. But emotional distance wasn't something Oliver was good at during the best of times.

The guest room was just as big as Oliver's room, but it didn't have the same character. It was like a very expensive hotel room. Slade put the bag of clothes Oliver had bought for him in the closet. He didn't bother unpacking because he didn't know how long he would be here. Only long enough to dig up some leads on his family's whereabouts and help Oliver get started on his list.

After a shower and trimming his beard down to a reasonable length, Slade checked the time. Oliver was probably ready by now. As he walked back down the hall, Slade heard voices.

"... yachts suck," the unfamiliar joking voice said.

Oliver's response indicated that the voice belonged to Tommy Merlyn, the person who was joining them for dinner. Slade recalled Oliver mentioning Tommy once or twice. There was some kind of encounter in Hong Kong.

Slade waited in the hall until the two of them came out of Oliver's room. Tommy was a cheery individual, blissfully unaware of the horrors his friend had faced. It was just as well.

"Don't tell me," he said when he saw Slade waiting for them. "The mysterious savior Thea mentioned?"

"I'm not that mysterious," Slade replied, shaking Tommy's hand and introducing himself.

Tommy glanced over at Oliver. "You were stuck on an island with a guy named Wilson?"

Oliver looked mildly embarrassed. "That joke is five years old, Tommy."

The three of them headed downstairs to the dining room. Moira, Walter, and Thea were already seated at the table, and dinner was about to be served. Slade wanted to laugh at the idea of someone serving him dinner after all the time he spent hunting and butchering his own meals. It wasn't as if he hadn't been back in civilization off and on in the past three years, but nothing like this.

Tommy did most of the talking at dinner until Thea asked, "What was it like there?"

Slade looked at Oliver, knowing he wasn't going to tell her the truth. "Cold," he finally said.

"Only because you couldn't start a fire to save your life," Slade said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, tell them about the time you watched me try for two hours when you had a lighter the whole time," Oliver replied.

"It was the highest quality entertainment I'd had in a year."

"Were you there before Oliver?" Thea asked. She did ask a lot of questions.

"Yes," Slade said. "By about six months."

"Were you shipwrecked too?"

Slade noticed the worried look in Oliver's eyes. They hadn't talked about Slade's cover story, but he needn't have concerned himself.

"It was a plane," Slade said. "There was a malfunction, and we crash landed on the island."

"We? Was someone else with you?"

Slade had considered how he might answer such a question and concluded it was best to say yes. He nodded. "My family," he said. "They didn't make it." It was easy enough to appear upset about the fictitious deaths of his family since he still didn't know where they were.

The conversation shifted after that and ended with the revelation of Moira and Walter's relationship which Oliver pretended to be upset about. But Slade caught the wink he threw at his sister as he left the table. Slade followed Oliver out into the hall.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked.

"I'm reacting the way they'd expect me to," Oliver said, putting up that mask of calm indifference that never fooled Slade.

"You sure you're not just reacting the way you feel? They probably wanted to ease you into it."

"I don't need to be eased into anything. But they can't know that. No one can know. We have to keep up appearances."

"That's going to be difficult if you insist on leaving in the middle of the first decent meal we've had in months."

"You didn't have to follow me."

"Yes I did. Keeping up appearances, remember? I'm the familiar, comforting presence that helps you get over your traumatic experiences." Slade's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Oliver glanced back at the doorway to the dining room as if someone might follow them. "If you want to back out..." he said in a lower voice.

"I'm not backing out," Slade said. "I'm just asking you to be honest with yourself even if you're lying to everyone else."

"So are you."

Slade shook his head. "They're not my family. It doesn't hurt me to lie to them."

"I'm fine." Oliver turned toward the stairs.

"You'll never be fine," Slade called after him. "Thought you knew that by now."

Oliver ignored him as he disappeared upstairs. Slade thought about going back to the table, but he didn't want to answer all the awkward questions that would arise from the scene. So he headed back to his room and sat down at the desk which thankfully faced the door. He didn't think he would find much on his family using one of the Queens' computers, but he had time, and it couldn't hurt to look.

###

It was nearing midnight, but Slade couldn't sleep. His unfruitful search had ended hours earlier, but now he was hungry. What little he managed to eat at dinner had not been sufficient. He was used to being hungry of course, but now that he didn't have to be, it was more difficult to convince himself to go to sleep.

He finally made up his mind to go down to the kitchen and see if there were any leftovers. He was sure no one would mind. The halls were eerie in the darkness, and Slade understood what Thea meant about the place feeling haunted. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat. The moonlight coming through the high windows only distorted things and contributed to the atmosphere.

Slade made it downstairs and found the kitchen without incident, but as he slipped through the door, he noticed a light coming from a large freezer across the room. Someone was in there rummaging around, but the door was blocking his view. With every sense on high alert, Slade crossed the tile floor silently, using the shadows for cover in case the intruder turned around. He reached the freezer door and pulled it back, ready to fight.

Thea screamed and dropped the gallon tub of ice cream she was holding. "What are you doing?" she demanded, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

"I was hungry, and I thought..."

"That a burglar was stealing all our frozen food?"

Slade couldn't help smiling. "I guess so."

"You almost gave me a heart attack. You know you look really scary in the dark?"

"I've been told."

Thea picked up the ice cream tub and set it on the island in the middle of the room. "Spoons are over there," she pointed to a drawer.

Slade returned with two spoons, but Thea didn't have any bowls.

"I eat it straight out of the container all the time," she said, taking a spoon from him. "Just don't tell my mom."

Slade took a seat next to her. "I'm very good at keeping secrets."

As Thea dug into the ice cream, she kept talking. "Sorry about earlier. Mom say's I ask too many questions. We just never talk about stuff..."

"It does not bother me," Slade replied. "If I don't want to answer, I'll just say so."

"Okay, so maybe you could tell me how you met Oliver? You said you'd been there longer."

Slade considered which details he should share with Oliver's sister. He couldn't tell her about Fyers and Yao Fei, obviously. "He found my plane," he finally said. "And I almost killed him."

"So, did this happened while you were there?" Thea made a circle around her eye with the end of her spoon.

"That was an accident. Oliver was trying to help me."

Thea grimaced. "You guys must have been through a lot."

Slade nodded. "And you," he said. "It couldn't have been easy not knowing."

"No," Thea agreed. "One day I had a dad and a brother, and then... I tried to keep believing they were alive. Now that I know Dad's gone and Oliver's back—I don't know. It's not just gonna go back to the way it was."

"Nothing ever goes back to the way it was. Everything changes. A little or all at once."

"I'm sorry. You must know what that's like."

"I often wonder if it might be better not knowing. Or is it worse?"

Thea seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Maybe. It depends. It was better not knowing my dad was dead, I guess, but I think the truth is always going to be better in the long run."

Slade nodded. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. He almost thought he would rather not know if his family were dead just to hold onto the hope that he might find them someday.

"Thanks," Thea said suddenly.

"For what?" Slade asked.

She shrugged. "Talking to me like a normal person. You know, not just an obnoxious kid. I think Oliver still sees me as a little girl."

"He's your brother; he'll always see you as a little girl. My son was five years old the last time I saw him. It's hard to imagine him being twice that now."

"A lot can change in five years," Thea agreed. "I just hope Oliver's not too disappointed by what he finds."


	2. Many Unhappy Returns

**A/N: This chapter features the introduction of an original character named Colton Six. He was created by Riter's Fury for her story "The Darkest Part." She has graciously allowed me to use the character in my story as well. Please go check out her story; it's very well written and entertaining.**

 **Chapter Two "Many Unhappy Returns"**

It could have been the old house creaking and groaning, but Slade was sure he heard something else as he climbed the stairs. Thea had already gone to bed, and everyone else was asleep. Or so he thought.

He tried to tell himself it was the storm. He'd been hearing rain and thunder for the last hour. But it was too close to be thunder. There was something in the house. Something in Oliver's room. It wasn't as if the kid had no enemies, and now the whole world knew where he was.

All Slade's concerns seemed justified when he saw Oliver's door standing open. He ran into the room just in time to see Oliver wake up and pin his mother to the floor as Walter stared, frozen in shock. Slade didn't think twice before rushing at Oliver and pulling him off his mother.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Oliver muttered, his fingers digging a little too hard into Slade's arm.

"Oliver, it's all right," his mother said, reaching out to him. "You're home."

Oliver didn't let go of Slade's arm. Coming home wasn't the solution to all their problems; it was the beginning of them. Slade had to wonder if this was what it would be like for _him_. If he ever found his family, would he have the same difficulty adjusting? He'd done it before, though. Coming back from a mission was always a challenge. But this hadn't been just any mission.

For the moment, Slade just had to worry about Oliver. He'd deal with his own problems when the time came.

"Someone close that window," he said as the rain still pelted into the room. It couldn't have helped Oliver's sense of reality.

Walter went to the window, and as soon as it was closed, Oliver seemed to snap back to reality.

"You okay, kid?" Slade asked.

Oliver let go of him and stood shakily. "Fine," he said.

"Oliver—" Moira touched his arm and he flinched. She drew her hand back, a hurt look in her eyes. "What were you doing on the floor?"

Oliver shook his head as if trying to chase away whatever nightmares were plaguing him now. "I couldn't sleep," he said. "It was just a dream; I'm fine. Everyone go back to bed."

Moira didn't look like she wanted to go anywhere, and Slade didn't blame her. Walter finally led her to the door, and Slade started to follow them out.

"Wait," Oliver said.

Slade turned, a little surprised.

"I need you to do something tomorrow," he said.

So it was about the new mission. "What is it?" Slade asked.

"There's an old factory my father owned. I want you to check it out and see if it will work for..."

Slade nodded. "Right. Guess you've got a busy day."

"Once we get set up we can take on my father's list and find your family."

"All the coming and going might be suspicious."

"I'll take care of it. I'm going to see about finding a place for you in the city. That way, no one will notice."

"I may not be here that long," Slade reminded Oliver.

"I know. Just to be on the safe side."

Slade wasn't about to argue. "And what am I telling your family about my little excursion?"

Oliver smirked. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

###

Moira was only too happy to loan Slade a car and direct him to all the best sights in the city. Oliver had already given him a map with his destination circled in red pen, but Slade feigned ignorance and thanked Moira for her hospitality.

Getting out on his own was something of a relief. Oliver's family was nice enough, but as someone unaccustomed to nice people and circumstances, he found the constant imitation of civilized behavior exhausting.

The abandoned factory was in a part of town where one would expect to find an abandoned factory. Slade had to wonder what excuse Oliver planned on using for coming here. He parked behind the building and climbed the fence. The outer walls were covered in years of graffiti and dirt. All the doors were locked, but that wasn't really a problem. Inside, the factory was empty except for dust and some pamphlets on the floor. It was just depressing enough to make a perfect hideout for Oliver's new identity. Not for the first time, Slade began to rethink his support for this plan. Oliver probably needed therapy more than he needed this. But it wasn't as if he could tell anyone what he'd been doing the last five years. Neither of them could.

Slade found his way down to the basement of the factory and brought in a few of the boxes from the car. He would leave it to Oliver to set up the computers and archery equipment. As he left the factory, Slade thought he might take Moira's advice and see some of the city. He needed to be able to account for his time anyway, and he couldn't do much more on his search for his family until he had some more advanced technology than a household desktop with a Wi-Fi connection.

###

There was a police car outside the Queen mansion when Slade returned from his outing. His first thought was to question what the kid had done now. As he went inside, he heard strained voices. He stood in the doorway, looking into the living room where a couple of detectives were talking to Oliver and his family.

"Did you even try to save my daughter?" one of the men asked aggressively, looking up at Oliver from a wheelchair. Even though he was disadvantaged, Slade got the feeling this man could still be dangerous.

The other detective calmed his friend, and they left quickly after that.

Oliver seemed anxious to be gone as well, but he spent a few more minutes talking with his mother and Walter, during which time Slade picked up the basics of what happened. Or what Oliver was telling people. A man in a green hood saved him from a team of professional kidnappers. Clever.

Tommy made some comment about a party right before Oliver excused himself.

"Is that what really happened?" Slade asked with a hint of a smile when they were alone in the hallway.

"Not here," Oliver replied in a low voice, gesturing toward the stairs.

"What's this about a party?"

"Tommy's throwing a welcome home party tomorrow night. It's not exactly how I want to spend my time, but I figure it's best to humor him. He said to invite you, but you don't have to come."

"Might be entertaining. And there's always a chance your hooded friend might need backup."

They reached Oliver's room and once the door was closed, Oliver dropped the "dumb kid" mask he seemed to keep up even when he didn't need to.

"There is," he agreed. "Did you find everything okay?"

"The basement should be suited to your purpose," Slade said. "But you still didn't answer my question."

"Some guys grabbed me and wanted to know if my father was still alive and if he told me anything."

"And?"

"And I killed them. Tommy was unconscious the whole time, so I thought it was as good a time as any to introduce the green hood."

"The detective didn't seem to like your story. Sara's father?"

Oliver nodded. "I don't know why they sent him. Seems like a conflict of interest."

Slade knew Oliver wasn't as calm about the encounter as he was pretending to be, but he let it go. "What about her sister?" he asked instead. "Did you see her like you planned?"

"Yes. It was... about as I expected."

"Can you blame her?"

"No. I just had to get it over with."

"Good. Now we can focus on the reason we're here."

Oliver's fingers twitched. "Our friend in the hood has an appointment with Adam Hunt tonight. He stole forty million dollars, and he's going to give it back."

###

The convention center walls vibrated from all the heavy bass, and flashing blue lights distorted the chaotic scene. Slade didn't know what he was thinking when he agreed to come to this party. There was no way he'd be able to hear or see a threat with all the movement and noise. Next to him, Thea stood with a smile on her face as they watched Oliver's dramatic entrance. A high pitched chorus of cheers greeted him. Slade took note of the fact that most of the guests were female. Tommy seemed to be enjoying himself as he presided over the spectacle.

"Oh, look! There's Laurel." Thea pulled on Slade's arm, leading him in the direction of a young woman he'd seen in Oliver's photograph many times. She looked out of place in her business suit.

"I wasn't sure you'd be here," Thea said, giving Laurel a hug.

"Neither was I," Laurel replied with a tight smile.

"Well, I'm glad you are." Thea gestured to Slade. "Have you met Mr. Wilson?"

"I already feel old," Slade said, shaking Laurel's hand. "You can call me Slade."

"Pleasure to meet you," Laurel said. "Tommy mentioned you were staying with the Queens?"

"I've gotta go meet some people," Thea interjected. "Don't have too much fun without me."

She disappeared, leaving Slade alone with Oliver's ex-girlfriend. "Yes," he said in answer to her question. "For a few days at least."

"The way Tommy tells it, you're something of a hero."

"I wouldn't say that, and I get the feeling you wouldn't either since it was Oliver's life I saved."

Laurel stiffened at the unexpected honesty. "My opinion isn't what counts," she said. "His family has him back. Tommy is thrilled. And saving anyone's life is pretty heroic. It's not like you knew about..."

"Sara? I'm sorry about what happened to her. Oliver told me a few days after I met him."

Laurel nodded, though she seemed unsure of what to say to that. "Can I ask you something then? And it's going to sound really terrible."

"You can ask."

"Why did you save him?"

Slade paused for a moment, considering his response. He hadn't exactly had this conversation with Oliver himself. But the truth was simple. "What kind of man would I be if I didn't?" he said.

Laurel blinked hard as if to keep her emotions in check. "You're right. I said some pretty awful things to him yesterday. I should apologize, but I don't really want to."

Slade shook his head. "I'm not saying you should forgive him. I wouldn't. But what good does it do to let him make you miserable?"

"Anybody ever tell you you're a wise man?"

"Only in irony."

"Well, I'm glad to have met you. Oliver's lucky to have such a good friend."

"Remind him of that, would you?" Slade smirked.

Laurel smiled back. "Sure."

As she walked away, Slade turned to scan the room again. He noticed Thea surrounded by some other girls close to her age. They were all talking and laughing at the same time, but Thea's smile didn't reach her eyes. He wondered at that, but his attention was suddenly drawn away by a familiar man who should not have been there.

###

Laurel's presence surprised Oliver and her apology for yesterday even more so. He hadn't anticipated a conversation this civil between the two of them ever happening again. It almost worried him. Until an unwanted guest interrupted their conversation.

"You made it!" Laurel said, giving the man a quick kiss.

"I wouldn't miss this," he replied with a grin.

"Ollie, this is Colton Six." Laurel gestured from the intruder to Oliver, one arm still wrapped around the other man.

"Nice to meet you, _Ollie_ ," Six said with a wink Laurel didn't see as he shook Oliver's hand. "So glad to hear you're back from the dead."

Oliver tried to force a smile. Laurel couldn't have known that her date was a dangerous ARGUS agent. And this wasn't the time or place to tell her. "Thanks," he said stiffly. "You two known each other long?"

"We've been dating a couple years," Laurel said. To her credit, she wasn't trying to rub it in, but it still felt wrong.

"How did you meet?"

"It was the funniest thing," Six said. "We were in the same restaurant and our meals got switched. Naturally, I refused to switch back until she agreed to eat dinner with me."

"I think you switched them on purpose," Laurel said, punching his arm.

"Who could blame me?"

Oliver wanted to throw up.

##=======

Slade contemplated various strategies for getting Colton Six out of the building without raising suspicion. Oliver had to be across the street in another minute or two, and he didn't seem to know the true identity of his ex's new boyfriend. It was just as well he didn't. No need to concern him with more ARGUS mess.

As he reached Oliver's side, he could feel the tension rolling off his friend. Whatever he may have said about getting over Laurel, he still had feelings for her.

Laurel introduced everyone, and Slade thought it was strange that Six was going by his real name. As real as "Six" was, anyway.

"Tommy said something about the volleyball guy," Six said with a cheesy grin.

"The what?" Laurel said.

"Wilson? _Castaway_?"

"I hate that movie," Slade muttered.

"You're here!" Thea's excited voice broke into the conversation as she rushed over and hugged Six. "I thought you didn't get back until tomorrow?"

"When I heard about all the fatted calves, I just had to be here," Six replied.

Slade was going to kill him. Going after Oliver's ex was one thing, but endearing himself to his little sister was taking things too far. And apparently, he was friends with Tommy as well. Slade narrowed his eyes at Six, wondering who else he had duped.

"I need to find the ladies room," Laurel said. "Thea, you want to come with me?"

The two of them broke off from the group and headed off down the hall.

"Why are girls always going to the bathroom together?" Six pondered, mostly to himself.

"I actually have to go talk to someone," Oliver said, seeming anxious to leave, probably for many reasons.

Slade nodded and sensed his chance to get Six alone, away from the party and anyone important.

"Before you drag me outside, why don't we walk like civilized people?" Six asked, raising his hands in a gesture of truce.

"We are not civilized people," Slade replied, but he went along anyway.

As soon as they were out on the sidewalk out of sight, Slade pushed Six against the side of the building. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"You want the short version?"

"Please."

"Fine. I'm supporting my... you know..."

" _Girlfriend_?" Slade almost laughed.

Six shrugged, which was a little difficult with Slade's arm pushing against his chest. "I'm not big on labels."

"I remember. I also remember you being Amanda Waller's errand boy. Tell me why you're here, or I'll ask less nicely."

Six sighed dramatically. "Really, with the threats already? You just forgot about all the good times we've shared?"

"I haven't forgot all the lies you've told me. You've got three seconds to tell me something I believe."

"How often do you use that line?"

Slade shoved harder, slamming Six against the concrete.

"Okay, okay. I'm freelancing now. Waller got a little megalomaniacal, if you know what I mean. And I am... you know... with Laurel."

"You expect me to believe showing up at Oliver's party was a coincidence?"

"No. Honestly, I don't expect you to believe much of what I say."

"Then what am I supposed to think when you tell me you've got no idea where Adeline and Joe are?"

"So that's what this is about?"

"That's what this has always been about. I know she trusted you. You are the only one she would have told."

Six pushed Slade away with relative ease. "She didn't. I'm as clueless as you are. And don't worry about your friend. I won't get in his way if he doesn't get in mine."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Six straightened his suit jacket. "I'd love to stand here chatting all night, but I'm missing the party, and Tommy said there'd be a buffet."

He turned and walked back inside just as glass shattered from a high window across the street.


	3. Meet the Canary

**Chapter Three "Meet the Canary"**

Oliver adjusted his hood as the police barged into the office. Things hadn't gone exactly according to plan. He was going to have to make a quick getaway, but he'd already done what he came to do. As he prepared to run for the window, he saw movement in his peripheral vision that seemed contrary to the rest. A woman in black leather was standing between him and the police. Her black mask and long blonde hair obscured her face. Suddenly, she let out an earsplitting cry, sending the officers stumbling back. Oliver's head pounded as he shot a grappling arrow through the window. The woman had some kind of sonic device to make her voice so powerful.

There wasn't time to stop and find out who she was. The cops were everywhere, and Oliver had to get back to the party and make an appearance to prevent any suspicion. As he zip-lined across the street, he couldn't help thinking this was going to be more complicated than he originally thought.

Once he hit the rooftop, Oliver hurried to the stairs and found his clothes. A few floors down, Slade met him in the stairwell.

"What did you do with your guard dog?" Slade asked.

"He took a little nap," Oliver replied with a faint smirk as they headed down the stairs.

"Your mother's not going to like that."

"I can't do what I came to do if I have a babysitter following me around."

They reached the door that would lead them back to the party. "Game face," Slade said.

Oliver plastered on a fake smile and pushed open the door. He would have to tell Slade about the mystery woman later.

Tommy found them soon after they returned. "Hey, where you been?" he said. "Listen, I've got some people you need to meet. And by people, I mean girls who'd like to show a couple of castaways a good time."

As uncomfortable as Oliver was with that prospect, he got the feeling Slade would be even more so. However, they were spared from having to reply as the police came in, and Detective Lance began barking orders. Whatever happened to put him in that wheelchair didn't seem to have slowed him down one bit.

Oliver made a show of treating the whole thing with sarcasm. Tommy laughed right along with him while Laurel looked on disapprovingly. Next to her, Six seemed very amused about something. Oliver would wipe that smile off his face later.

###

Laurel threw her bag down on the couch with more force than usual. She ran her hands through her hair and let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"What is his problem?" she demanded of the ceiling.

Six went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and began pulling out various items. "I'm guessing a series of traumatic experiences mixed with an already obnoxious personality. Huh." Six looked wistful. "He's a little like me."

Laurel shook her head. "You will never be as obnoxious as Oliver Queen."

Six got out a pan and started heating it on the stove. "Are you still angry with him?"

"Of course I am. Any sane person would be."

"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that."

"What are you doing?" Laurel finally noticed that there was cooking going on in her kitchen.

"Making cheese sauce," Six replied.

"Why?"

"For the macaroni, obviously."

"No, why are you making macaroni? It's 12:30 at night."

"The buffet did not live up to expectations. I really thought better of Tommy."

"Lesson learned," Laurel teased. "Never take anything Tommy Merlyn says at face value. Hey, are you making enough for me?"

"That depends on how you feel about bacon."

"I feel very warmy about bacon." Laurel went to the refrigerator to get the package.

"So, how was the ladies room?" Six asked.

"Fine," Laurel replied, placing the bacon package on the counter. "The green hood guy showed up. Another masked crime fighter in town is going to drive my dad insane."

"Maybe then he'll like me."

Laurel put her arm around Six's shoulders and kissed his cheek. "It's never gonna happen."

"It could be a good thing, though," Six said. "The hood guy."

Laurel stared thoughtfully into the now bubbling cheese sauce. "Maybe," she said. "We still don't know anything about him. I'll have Thea look into it. She's getting really good with a computer."

"Her left hook is coming along nicely too."

"Just don't tell her that. She already thinks she's good enough to jump into the fight. I'm not so sure."

"She hasn't had the same years of intense training you have."

"And she won't," Laurel insisted. "Thea is backup."

"You say that like you think I'll forget."

"Forget? No. Ignore me? Maybe. I don't want her getting on ARGUS' radar. Her family has been through enough."

Six mimed crossing his heart with the cheesy spoon. "I promise I won't take off the training wheels."

"Good." Laurel looked back at the pan. "That smells amazing, can we just eat it?"

Six waved her off. "No. We're not savages. We need bacon."

###

Thea scratched her ear. The tiny communication device she wore for missions was still securely in place, but it was starting to irritate her. She couldn't take it out while she was sitting in the back of a limo with Oliver, Slade, and Oliver's new bodyguard, Mr. Diggle. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk with Laurel and Six about the unexpected assist from the hooded guy. Laurel only had time to say that he had placed some kind of device in the office attached to an arrow. Thea had found an unknown presence on Adam Hunt's network, but there wasn't time to find out what it was before they had to return to the party. Once everything calmed down with Oliver's return, it would be easier to get back to their old routine. Thea just hoped Oliver didn't ask too many questions about why she was always hanging out with Laurel and Six.

"Next time your friend throws a party," Slade said to Oliver, "remind me that I don't like his idea of a good time."

Oliver chuckled. "Your idea of a good time isn't exactly normal."

"Neither is being flirted with by women half my age—or less."

"Tommy's definition of fun is pretty sleazy by any standard," Thea said, looking at Oliver. "But so is yours."

"You didn't have to come," Oliver said.

"And miss my big brother's first social event in five years? Never. Your awkwardness is wildly entertaining."

"Something we can agree on," Slade said.

Oliver looked over at Mr. Diggle who had been silent since before they left. "How did you like the party, Dig?" he asked.

"Didn't see much of it, Sir," Diggle said in a strained voice as he glared back at Oliver.

Thea wasn't sure what was going on with them, but she did remember hearing something about Oliver trying to ditch Diggle the first time he met him. Though she hadn't shared her opinion with anyone, Thea could see the sense of having a bodyguard, if only for their family's peace of mind. Oliver apparently didn't see it that way. After being alone so long, he must have been used to doing whatever he wanted without help. But Slade had been there too.

It was well past midnight when they got home, and everyone went straight to bed. As she lay awake thinking over the events of the evening, Thea was certain she could hear voices down the hall.

###

"And you didn't see her come in?" Slade asked, pacing back and forth in front of the window.

Oliver had just finished telling him about the woman in black. "No, it was like she came out of nowhere," he said. "She must have been there at least part of the time I was fighting the guards."

"She didn't say anything?"

Oliver shook his head. "But she got between me and the cops like she wanted me to escape. I'm wondering if she's done this sort of thing before."

"We should check news reports. They shouldn't be too difficult to find."

Oliver walked over to the desk and sat down, powering up the computer. He was still getting used to how much faster the internet was now. It would only make his life easier, though. A quick search for "woman in black starling city" resulted in several hits for a masked crime fighter the media was calling "Black Canary." She had been seen taking down drug dealers, fighting muggers, and exposing corrupt businessmen alike. The police were offering a reward for information on her identity, but people in general seemed to view her positively.

"Looks like somebody beat you to it, kid," Slade said, looking at the screen from behind Oliver.

Oliver rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But who is she, and why is she out there?"

"There are still some people who just want to make things better."

Oliver turned in his chair and looked up at Slade. "I thought you said people are out for themselves?"

"That was before you risked your life for the guy who shot you with an arrow and dumped you in a river."

Oliver turned back to the screen. This didn't change anything. He still had to do what his father had asked of him. He still had to complete the list. Maybe this woman would be an ally. Until he knew for sure, he would tread cautiously.

###

Surveillance had to be one of Slade's least favorite jobs, but with Colton Six in town, he couldn't be too careful. As soon as Oliver went to bed, he left the house and headed back into the city to the address listed for Laurel Lance. If she really was dating the crazy bastard, it was the best place to start.

Slade set up on the roof of a building across the street and found Laurel's living room window after a bit of searching. She and Six were there, sitting on the couch with bowls of something. They were just talking and eating. It was almost two a.m., and they showed no signs of stopping. Several times, one of them had left the room and come back with more food. That, at least, was consistent with Six's personality. He never stopped eating. Something to do with those ARGUS experiments that made him stronger than normal people.

The last thing Slade wanted to be doing was spying on Six, but if anyone knew where Adeline and Joe had gone, it would be him. And he wouldn't tell Slade anything unless he felt like it, and he rarely felt like being helpful if Slade's memory served.

This would be a long night.


	4. Bats and Cats

**Chapter Four "Bats and Cats"**

Six left early before Laurel was awake. There was plenty food in the fridge for Laurel's breakfast, and she'd probably have lunch at her desk. He'd be back in time for dinner. In the meantime, he had to keep someone busy.

If Slade Wilson had really been on an island for five years, his skills might have gotten rusty, but Six knew better. Slade had been careful to steer clear of ARGUS for the past three years, but Six hadn't really been working for them. He hadn't been working for anyone.

In any case, Six had run into Slade a few times over the last three years, and none of the encounters had exactly been friendly. There was that one time in a hedge maze in Germany when they tried to kill each other with pruning shears. Good times.

By now, Oliver Queen had probably mentioned his encounters with Six in Hong Kong, furthering Slade's paranoia. Everyone was always misunderstanding Six. Of course, he didn't do much to dispel suspicion. It didn't matter what people thought of him.

The expensive black car was still following Six after nearly half an hour of trying to shake it. While Six was skilled at counter-surveillance, Slade knew all the same tricks—the erratic lane changes and false signals. This was taking forever.

The phone in the glove box started ringing. There were laws about driving while talking on a cell phone, but Six could never remember what they were. He pulled out the phone and chucked a bit at the name on the screen: Sherlock.

"Miss me?" Six said as he answered the call.

"Hardly," came the humorless reply. "I was hoping to go a full day without talking to you."

"I know you don't mean that." Six checked his mirror to see that Slade was still following him. "Got something of a family reunion on my hands here. Did you need something?"

"I thought I'd do you and your partner the courtesy of warning you that Deadshot is on his way to Starling City."

"Come on, you know I don't like labels."

"I meant your partner in the mask. I don't care what you do in your off hours."

"Right. So Deadshot? You couldn't handle him yourself?"

There was a brief pause. "He slipped away. I have other concerns."

"Sure, there's the kid and the gallery of freaks."

"Deadshot might be going after an auction. That's all I know. It will be up to you to find his employer."

"Don't worry about it. We've got a whole lineup of masked heroes roaming the streets. Good old Floyd won't know what hit him."

"And you have the Wilson situation under control?"

"As much as one can. He's following me right now. I'll keep him plenty busy."

"Just be glad you're not easy to kill."

"Always a pleasure talking to you, _detective_."

###

"Where've you been all morning?" Oliver asked as Slade came down the stairs into the basement of the old factory.

"Nowhere," Slade replied.

Oliver turned in his chair. "Something you don't want to tell me? Did you find a lead on your family?"

"More like I lost a lead. It was probably nothing."

"Anything I can do?"

"Not at the moment. What have you got going here?"

Oliver pulled up his research on Martin Somers. "Businessman in league with the Triad. Also being sued by one of Laurel's clients."

Slade smirked. "Convenient. What did he do?"

"Killed the woman's father. I'm going to get him to confess."

"You don't trust your ex-girlfriend's legal expertise?"

"I don't trust the legal system. Laurel can only do some much. But if Somers confesses, her client gets justice."

"And the Triad?"

Oliver shrugged. "I may need some backup on this one."

"You could ask your new friend."

"If I knew where she was, I might. But we still don't know what her motives are or if she can be trusted."

"Fine. I could use a distraction anyway."

Oliver stood and picked up a set of keys, handing them to Slade. "That's for the apartment," he said. "You can hang onto the car. I have to head over to the courthouse to get myself declared undead."

Slade took the keys. "Sounds like a good time. I'll meet you back here tonight."

###

As Slade approached the apartment door, he was instantly on edge. He heard footsteps inside and found the door unlocked. He reached for the gun hidden under his jacket as he pushed the door open. The smell of freshly baked cookies filled the apartment. That didn't make any sense. Movement from the kitchen drew Slade's attention and he almost pulled his gun when he saw that it was Thea.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Setting up!" Thea said said with a grin. "This place was so empty, I thought you could use some housewarming... stuff."

Slade looked around the front room and noticed a few potted plants and some abstract art on the wall. The furniture and decor were simple and understated, everything in neutral tones. Thea grabbed Slade's arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

"Oliver said you cook, so I got some good knives and pots and pans and stocked the fridge."

Slade's most recent cooking experience was the pheasant he trapped on the island the night before the rescue boat arrived. He couldn't remember the last time he used an actual stove. He moved around too much in the last few years.

Thea gestured to the plate of cookies on the granite counter. "Six made these. I can't even bake frozen dough without burning it—actually, I just end up eating all the dough."

Slade tried not to let his annoyance at the mention of Six show in his eyes. Thea was only trying to be nice, after all. Still, the cookies could be poisoned.

"But you haven't seen the best part," Thea said, guiding Slade back into the living room. There was a cardboard crate on one of the chairs surrounded by bags of stuff. Thea picked up the crate and held it out to Slade with a big smile. "Open it."

The crate was one of those house-shaped boxes with holes in the side so that whatever was inside could breathe. Slade took it and reluctantly pulled it open. Inside was a tiny ball of orange and black fluff. It moved. It was alive. The thing stretched out, revealing miniature claws and a mouth full of teeth as it yawned.

"It's a very small cat," Slade said tonelessly, staring at the monstrosity, and wondering what he had done to deserve this.

"It's a kitten," Thea said, still excited. "I thought it'd be better, that way you could train him how you want. I thought it might get lonely here, and Six suggested a cat. Low maintenance and all."

It always came back to Six somehow. Looking into the kitten's big, green eyes and fluffy half orange, half black face, Slade wanted to kill something.

"It's..." He cleared his throat. "Nice."

"I got you all the stuff you'll need." Thea pulled a set of food bowls out of one of the bags. "There's toys, a litter box, and a bag of food. I always wanted a cat, but my mom's allergic, so..."

Slade clenched his teeth and forced himself to reach into the box and pick up the cat. It fit in the palm of his hand with room to spare. He would probably end up stepping on it and crushing it before the week was out. How did one train a cat anyway? Could they be taught to attack on command? If so, he could use it against Six.

"Thank you," he said to Thea, managing a smile at that thought. "You didn't have to do all this."

"You're the reason my brother is alive." She shrugged. "And I'm very good at shopping."

The kitten mewed and dug its claws into Slade's hand. This was not going to be fun.

###

Thea had not included any books on training cats in the plethora of stuff she bought, so Slade headed out to a bookstore as soon as he made sure the animal was secure in the apartment. After scouring the pet section and finding nothing useful, he finally asked an employee. The pimply young man stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment before replying.

"Um… I don't think you can train cats."

Slade glared at the kid. "You need to get better at your job."

The kid took an involuntary step back. "You could try the pet store?"

Slade reminded himself that strangling teenaged bookstore employees was wrong and chose to walk away. He found the nearest pet store. It did have a book section which wasn't very big. Most of the books were sentimental drivel with maybe a few useful notes on actual training. None of them included anything on training a cat for home defense. It seemed like an enormous missed opportunity to Slade. Cats had sharper claws and were more agile than dogs. Why had no one else thought of this?

In the end, Slade picked up a book on basic house-training and decided to search the Internet for anything else. It was still too early to meet Oliver, so Slade headed home. It startled him to think of the unfamiliar apartment as home. It was as close as he could get at the moment. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He had space to himself—if he didn't count the feline—and friends who seemed overly interested in his wellbeing. He didn't want to get attached to this place or these people, but he was already starting to. He identified with Oliver's family too much. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself this was only temporary, he found himself wanting to stay.

As he walked into the apartment, something bumped into his leg. Slade almost reached for his gun before he remembered the cat. It wove between his feet, rubbing its face against his ankles. Slade knew enough about cats to know this was an affectionate gesture, but that didn't mean he liked it. He closed the door and picked up the cat with one hand around its middle. It squirmed, but it was too small to escape. Slade set the book down on the coffee table and held the cat up for closer inspection. It was a male with tortoise shell patterned fur. Its face was split almost perfectly down the middle between black and orange.

The cat made a noise like a chirp at the back of its throat. It was getting irritated.

"Fine," Slade said, setting it down on the floor again where it began biting his shoelaces. He nudged it aside with the tip of his boot, and it flopped over, waving its paws playfully.

Slade went over to the bags Thea had left on the chair and found a package of plastic balls with bells in them. He threw one to the kitten, and it immediately began chasing the thing all over the apartment. At least it was easily entertained.

Slade picked up the book again and sat down at a small desk adjacent to the dining room. He powered on the computer and started flipping through the cat manual. Most of it was obvious stuff: how to get your cat to use the litter box and not sharpen its claws on the furniture. All important things, but not what Slade was really looking for. He skimmed a few chapters to get the basics and then started searching for more specific things on the Internet. Not surprisingly, there was very little on training a cat to attack intruders.

Slade felt a sharp pain in his leg and looked down to see the little fur ball climbing up by its claws. It reached his lap and curled into a ball and went to sleep. How was he supposed to turn anything so docile into a vicious killing machine? Well, there was always the method he used with Oliver. Though Slade thought that probably wouldn't work on a cat.

A knock at the door drew Slade's attention, and he almost stood before remembering there was a cat sitting on him. He picked it up and dumped it on the chair where it yawned and went back to sleep.

Slade crossed the room to the door and looked through the peephole. He cursed when he saw who it was. He opened the door and glared at Six who was holding a plastic container.

"Oh, good, you're home," Six said with a grin. "I thought I'd bring you some—"

Six cut off when the cat began rubbing his ankles. He looked down, and his smile became forced.

"Cat treats," he continued. "Homemade. No fillers—Does it ever stop?"

"Does what stop?" Slade asked, feigning ignorance.

The cat was now gnawing on the hem of Six's jeans.

Six nudged it aside as he stepped into the apartment, and Slade let him. If Six was this uncomfortable with the cat, Slade wanted to see how far he could push it.

"Cat treats," Slade said. "That's very thoughtful of you."

"Well, I figured you'd end up buying the cheap ones and giving the little—thing—stomach ulcers or something."

"Why don't you give him one. See if he likes it."

"Sure." Six opened the container and took out a biscuit the size of a pea.

The cat devoured it and immediately began harassing Six for more. All according to plan.

"I think he likes you," Slade said with a faint smirk.

"Yeah, isn't that… cute."

Slade took the container and put it away in the kitchen. "So why do I merit all this attention?" he asked. "Surely you have other things to do?"

"Not really. Laurel works, poor woman. And it's not every day an old friend comes back from the dead."

"I think 'friend' is stretching it."

Six put his hand over his heart. "I'm hurt. Here I just wanted to make you feel welcome."

"I'm sure that's why you dragged me all over the city this morning. Who were you talking to so intently?"

"Babe Ruth. And that was fun. I mean, I didn't make you follow me."

The cat was now chasing Six's feet as he walked across the floor. He tried to dodge out of the way, but it continued pouncing wherever he went. Maybe cats didn't need training to attack their owners' enemies.

"What's your interest in Oliver Queen's ex-girlfriend?" Slade asked, pushing the plate of cookies toward Six.

"Definitely not that she's Oliver Queen's ex-girlfriend." Six grabbed a cooking and bit into it. Probably not poisoned, then. "If you must know, she appreciates my sense of humor and my cooking."

"Perhaps she just has poor taste, though I remember your cooking being the only thing I liked about you."

"Hey, it's something."

"What about Oliver's sister."

"What about her?"

"How do you know her?"

"She's friends with Laurel. They spend a lot of time together. Think about it: they both lost a sibling. By the time I met Laurel, you couldn't find one without the other outside of school hours."

"You're serious?"

"Occasionally. There's nothing secret or sinister about my life here."

"You told Thea to get me a cat."

"What? You don't like it?"

Slade looked down to see the cat attempting to climb up Six's leg. "No, I think I do."


	5. Deathstroke

**Chapter Five "Deathstroke"**

Oliver groaned as he peeled off the green leather jacket and examined his most recent bruises. He'd gotten the confession out of Somers, but it didn't come cheap. It was just as well he knew China White was in town, but he lost her again. She had brought a few Triad goons with her which kept Slade busy even after the woman in black showed up. There hadn't been enough time before the police swarmed the place for Oliver to catch China White or get a good look at the Black Canary.

"You weren't thinking this was going to be easy, were you?" Slade asked, setting his helmet down on the table next to the spare arrows.

"I wasn't exactly expecting the Triad my first week back, but it could have been worse," Oliver replied.

Slade chuckled at the idea. "I gotta say, I like the new work clothes."

Oliver had anticipated Slade might need something when he helped on missions. It was a bit more colorful than his usual black and gray, but the outfit had more features.

"I thought you might," Oliver said.

"Are you still planning on recruiting the babysitter?"

Oliver thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," he said. "I know you can't be here all the time, and it's a lot to keep up with. Until I know who this Canary is, I need someone I can trust. I'm just not sure he's ready."

"Don't wait too long. If you give him a chance to get to know your playboy persona too well, he might just hate you."

Oliver shook his head. "He sees through it. I don't know how, but he does."

"You're a terrible liar. Your family sees what they want to see, but Diggle has no bias. He's a good choice, really. As long as you can convince him."

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. For now, I'll keep an eye on him. Are you going to be around a while?"

"Probably. No leads yet."

"If you need help—"

"This isn't something you can shoot with an arrow, kid," Slade interrupted.

He always did that. Any time Oliver tried to get more information, Slade shut him down. As much as he trusted his friend, he really didn't know that much about his past. Whereas, Slade knew just about everything there was to know about Oliver, save a few minor details.

"I have to get home," Slade said. "Your sister got me a cat, and it probably needs to eat."

Oliver stared at Slade as he climbed the stairs. He couldn't imagine that man taking care of a pet. He wondered what Thea was thinking, and then he smiled. Maybe it would do Slade some good to have company.

###

Laurel and Six sat at the kitchen counter eating homemade pizza and looking over heavily redacted files on an assassin named Floyd Lawton. According to Six, he would be in town soon, targeting some kind of auction. Laurel had to wonder where Six got his information, but he rarely shared those sorts of things.

"Everything go okay at the docks?" Six asked casually just as Laurel took a big bite of pizza.

"Fine," she mumbled around the mouthful. She swallowed. "Green Hood Guy got a confession out of Somers. He's a little too aggressive in his approach, but he came in handy this time. And he had a friend with swords."

"Bows and arrows and swords? Are these guys _Lord of the Rings_ cosplayers?"

"I think it's more like LARPing, actually, since they're, you know, doing stuff."

"So Legolas and Aragorn are out fighting the same criminals you are. Interesting."

"I've asked Thea to see what she can find out about them. They just showed up this week, apparently. I don't mind having a little help, especially since that device in Adam Hunt's office hacked his bank accounts and gave everyone back their money. But I'd like to know who these two are and why they're here."

"Concerned citizens with a taste for Medieval weaponry?"

"I'm sure that explains it. So, this assassin?"

"He's been on ARGUS' radar for a while," Six said, handing Laurel another piece of pizza. "They call him Deadshot."

She took it in her free hand while she finished the last few bites of her first piece. "Did you get this information from ARGUS contacts?"

"They don't really speak to me anymore. I have alternative sources of information who prefer to remain anonymous."

Laurel shook her head. "You and your secrets."

"Who is eating pizza without me?" Thea exclaimed as she walked into Laurel's apartment without knocking.

"I couldn't stop her," Six said. "I made sure to save some for you."

"Good thing you always make enough for an army," Thea said, tossing her jacket over the back of a chair and sitting down at the counter with Six and Laurel. "How'd it go tonight? I miss anything good?"

"Just Robin Hood and his merry swordsman," Six said, handing her a plate.

"And the Triad and Somers' confession," Laurel added. "You know, typical night."

"You should have told me you were going. I could have come with you."

"I'm sure you had other things to do, what with Oliver being home."

Thea let out a snort. "Oliver is barely home. He's constantly ditching Mr. Diggle, and Mom said he's got some girl in the city. Not surprising, I guess."

Laurel stiffened slightly, but she reminded herself that what Oliver did could no longer hurt her. She still hated that he hadn't changed, but it wasn't her problem anymore. "What about his friend?" Laurel asked, trying to make conversation that wasn't about their nighttime activities. Thea was a little too eager to rush into a fight these days.

"Slade? He moved into the apartment in the city my dad used to use sometimes. I get it, I guess, but it was kind of cool having him stay with us." Thea turned to Six. "I did take your suggestion about the cat, though. He seemed to like it."

Six grinned. "Good. Glad I could help. How's that essay coming along?"

Thea groaned. "Do we really have to talk about school? Come on. What's all this?" She gestured at the files all over the counter. "A new mission?"

Laurel gathered up the papers and put them in a stack. "Nothing you need to worry about. Just some research."

Thea scoffed. "Guys, I _do_ the research. What is it you're not telling me."

Six put up his hands and looked at Laurel. "I'm not taking this one."

Laurel sighed. "Thea, I really appreciate all your help, but I don't want to put too much on you. You're still in school, your family is going through a lot, and—"

"Let me just stop you right there," Thea said. "Being your backup has never gotten in the way of my life before. I'm doing okay in school, and like I said, Oliver's not around much. But this? We're helping a lot of people. Why do you want to push me out?"

"I'm not saying you should stop helping entirely, but a lot of these jobs are dangerous."

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I worry about you every time you go out there without me? If it was really too dangerous, Six wouldn't let me go, right?" Thea looked to Six for support.

Six started to say something, and Laurel glared at him.

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," he said. "It's not my call."

"No, it's _mine_." Thea stood and grabbed her jacket. "Just because I'm a kid doesn't mean I don't get to decide what I want to do with my life. And in a few months, I'll be eighteen, and you won't have that excuse anymore." She turned and headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As the door slammed, Laurel had to wonder if she made the right choice. She really did like having Thea around. But this whole thing had gotten a lot more complicated with new players in town—not to mention the assassin who supposedly never missed a shot and was on his way to Starling City. It was better for Thea to sit this one out. Laurel and Six could handle it on their own.

###

Slade had been home less than an hour when someone knocked at the door. If it was Six, he was going to kill him. The cat had been fed, and Slade was just contemplating going to sleep since he hadn't gotten any the night before. He was in no mood for company. But when he checked to see who it was, his surprise outweighed his irritation.

"Thea?" he said as he opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged and shoved her hands in her pockets. Clearly, something was wrong. "I just… had a bad night, and I didn't want to go home," she said. "It's stupid. I shouldn't bother you."

Slade held the door open. "Come in," he said. "You hungry?"

Thea shook her head. "No, I ate."

The cat came prancing into the room and rubbed against Thea's leg. "Aw, look how cute you are," she said, stooping down to pick him up. But there was still tension in her voice.

Slade gestured toward the couch. "You want to tell me what's bothering you?"

Thea sat down still holding the cat close to her chest. "It's gonna sound lame."

Slade sat in the chair across from her. "Start with why you don't want to go home."

Thea sighed. "Guess I just didn't want to wait around for Mom and Walter to notice me or Oliver to come back from wherever he is all the time."

"And your friends?"

"I kinda had a fight with my best friends. These are the people I trust most in the whole world, and… it's like they don't understand. They think they can just make decisions that affect me without even asking how I feel about it."

The cat jumped out of Thea's hands and chased after a fly that must have gotten in when she came.

"Don't mind him," Slade said. "He's got a short attention span. So your friends are terrible."

"They're not _terrible_. Most of the time. They just…" Thea trailed off.

"I'm going to need more details than that."

"Okay, so hypothetically, you have a—a system, a plan. You always do things this way. You feel like you belong and your opinion matters, like your an important part of the group. Then they decide they don't need you anymore. That it's too much for you to handle, so they push you to the side. It's for your own good, they say, but they don't get it. This system has been what's kept you sane for the past two years. You might be dead or in juvie if not for this system. And they go and change it on you without even considering what you're going to do now. I can't just go back to the way things were, you know? I mean, Laurel knocked some sense into me when I was in danger of becoming a junkie. She can't just push me away now. I'd talk to Tommy, but he's pretty much useless about this stuff. He means well, but I just can't take the hypocrisy from him and Oliver. Them and their parties and girls and who knows what, and they tell me _I_ need to get _my_ life together? My life _was_ together, thank you very much. Everything was fine before…"

Thea stopped suddenly and looked at Slade with a sheepish expression. He had been listening to her whole speech, and he had a feeling he was starting to put the pieces together.

"Everything was fine before…?" he prodded.

Thea shook her head as if to clear a haze. "Sorry. I—I shouldn't just rant at you like that. It's not your problem."

Slade leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Thea, I think you should talk to your family. Tell your mother how you feel about her ignoring you. Tell Oliver that you don't like his attitude. I've been trying for five years, but maybe you'll get through to him." Slade smirked. "Reconnecting can be difficult. He needs to know it's hard for you too."

Thea let out a long breath. "How do you know so much?"

"I've been around for a while."

"I don't know how I'm gonna work things out with Laurel, but… you're right about Mom and Oliver."

"They _are_ the adults. They should be more concerned with how you're dealing with all this, but clearly they need to be reminded."

"Thanks." Thea nodded. "I don't know why I feel like I can talk to you about this stuff."

"Must be the cat," he said, glancing over just in time to see it leap in the air and catch the fly in its mouth. Slade laughed. "He's quite the hunter."

Thea smiled. "So what did you decide to call him?"

"I haven't yet."

"The way he caught that thing with one stroke, it should be something badass."

Slade thought for a moment before landing on just the thing. "Deathstroke," he said.


	6. Falling to Your Death for the Cute IT Gi

**Chapter Six "Falling to Your Death for the Cute IT Girl"**

Sore and tired, Oliver just wanted to climb in bed and go to sleep when he returned home. But the sight of Thea in the entryway gave him pause. She was just taking off her jacket as if she had been out somewhere.

"Where have you been?" he asked casually.

"Could ask you the same thing," Thea replied, tension rolling off her in waves. "Me, I've been eating pizza and playing with a kitten. Perfectly innocent. What have _you_ been doing?"

"Thea—"

"Don't take that patronizing tone with me. I'm not a child. If you were out partying and hooking up with strangers, fine. Whatever. But don't act like you can judge my late night activities."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"What? That I turned out just like you? Well, I almost did. Then some people who cared about me showed me there was more to life than drowning your sorrows in booze and pills and empty hookups. And believe me, I have plenty of sorrows. So what's your excuse?"

"You seem to be making a lot of assumptions yourself."

"When you don't tell anyone where you're going and you ditch your security, it kinda makes me think you're ashamed of something. Listen, Oliver, if you and Tommy are out partying like you used to, I'm not surprised. I just wish you wouldn't act all high and mighty like you're better than me just because you're older."

"I don't think I'm better than you, Thea. It's the opposite. I want _you_ to be better than _me_."

"No worries there. I meant what I said. I had pizza with Laurel and Six and then I went and checked on Slade's cat."

Oliver frowned. Why would she go to check on the cat if Slade was home? He couldn't exactly ask, since he was letting her believe he'd been out partying, and she knew Slade wouldn't have been with him. And he couldn't bring up the fact that Six was bad company either.

"Busy night," he said instead.

"Yeah, full of excitement. Look, Slade said I should tell you how I feel about how things have been since you got back, and I feel pretty lousy."

"You talked to Slade?"

"Yeah, I just said I went over there."

"I thought you were checking on the cat because he wasn't home."

"More like I needed an excuse not to come back here because there's Mom and Walter all happy and busy with their own stuff, and there's you. You know, you're here, but I don't really feel like I have my brother back."

Oliver was stunned, but he shouldn't have been. He hadn't really thought about how hard this would be for Thea. The whole time he had been away, he convinced himself he was doing what was best for his family, but now he was only making their lives worse.

"I'm sorry, Thea," he said. "I guess I got distracted and forgot to be there for you. It's been so long since… Look, I'll make this right. We'll spend more time together. You and me."

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I do want to. I know I forget how grown up you've gotten, but being back, I see what I've been missing out on. Just… don't make me hang out with Laurel and her boyfriend."

Thea smiled. "You know, Six is cool once you get to know him. But I get it. You haven't had the chance to move on yet."

"Right." Oliver was suddenly very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. "Let's get some sleep and hang out tomorrow. Whatever you want to do, we'll do."

"Well, I do have school and the internship at Laurel's office, but I'm free for dinner."

Oliver nodded. "Great. I'll tell Diggle we're going out."

Thea crossed the entryway and hugged Oliver tightly. He resisted the urge to stiffen as she pressed on all the bruises he collected that evening. "Thanks, Ollie," she said.

"Any time, Speedy."

###

Oliver kept his promise, not that it was easy. Keeping up with crime in Starling City and having a relationship with his sister shouldn't have been this hard. But the more time he spent with Thea, the more gaps were filled in. Though she was currently experiencing some tension with Laurel, the two of them had become close over the past five years due to both of them losing a sibling. Laurel had been there for Thea when no one else was. When Thea was fifteen she started working after school at Laurel's office. Oliver no longer wondered at them spending so much time together. He even stopped being surprised at Thea's relationship to Six—though he still hated it. That was yet another problem to be solved.

But Thea wasn't. She was a whole person, not just a little kid. She had plans and goals, and she wanted to do something good with her life. Oliver wished he could tell her about his own plans, the good he was trying to do. But she was better off not knowing. Let her be a kid for a while longer.

By this time, Moira and Walter had given up trying to convince Oliver to work at the company. He had other ideas. He needed to do something with the outside of the old factory to justify his presence there. At least until he decided whether he would tell Diggle about his real reason for disappearing so often.

"A nightclub?" Slade asked incredulously as they sat at his dining room table eating dinner one evening.

Diggle was right outside, but Oliver had plans to ditch him via the balcony. "It fits the persona," he said. "It gives me a reason to be there potentially all night long, and it convinces my mother I'm doing _something_ with my life."

"Somehow, I doubt she'll be thrilled," Slade said.

"Your critique has been noted. What would you think about working as a bouncer?"

"Not very much. Why don't you turn the factory into a homeless shelter or, I don't know, something actually useful?"

Oliver shook his head. "Because that's not something anyone would believe me doing. I'm shallow, I'm selfish, I'm blissfully ignorant of the needs of others. That's what everyone has to think."

"It worries me how easily you pretend to be the old Oliver Queen."

"That's all it is. I couldn't go back to being him even if I wanted to."

Deathstroke made an annoyed chirping noise at Oliver and stared up at him from beside his chair.

"What's his problem?" Oliver asked.

"He wants your steak," Slade said. "If you take your eyes off it, he _will_ steal it."

"Why did Thea get you a cat again?"

"She thought I needed company. Guess she didn't expect I'd still be looking after you all the time."

"She told me what you said about talking to me. Why didn't _you_ just tell me?"

"If _I_ tell you your idiocy is hurting your family, you justify it by saying they're better off. If _she_ tells you, it's a little harder to ignore."

Oliver leaned back in his chair, turning his fork over in his hand. "I didn't expect… I don't know, that you'd be so good with people. Better than I am."

"You met me at a bad time."

Deathstroke jumped onto Oliver's lap, pivoted and climbed onto the table and was almost within reach of Oliver's steak before Slade reached out and picked him up in one hand. The cat squirmed, but couldn't escape the tight grip. Slade set him back on the floor without so much as a flicker in his eye.

"Next time I let him have it," he said with a smirk.

Oliver stared at the cat who stared back at him unabashed. "You're having too much fun with this."

Slade shrugged. "I've decided to just embrace it. It was either that or hurt your sister's feelings."

A faint smile tugged at Oliver's lips. "In my experience, you don't worry too much about hurt feelings."

"You are an exception."

"Guess I should feel special."

"You should. I don't make dinner for just anyone, and you are letting it get cold."

Oliver looked at the clock before quickly eating the last few bites. "Sorry I have to run," he said standing. "I have another meeting tonight."

Slade picked up the plates and tossed a few scraps of meat to Deathstroke. "You can just call it what it is," he said.

Oliver shook his head and glanced toward the door. Diggle.

"I take it you'll be going out the back way, then?" Slade asked.

Oliver looked over at the balcony doors. "Can't be that far down, can it?"

Slade looked like he wanted to laugh. "I have the utmost faith in your ability to fall to your death."

###

Oliver stared at the bullet riddled laptop for a second before looking up at the woman in black standing just outside the broken window.

"I lost him," she said in a clearly altered voice.

"Who are you?" Oliver asked, using his own voice changer.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Oliver looked around the destroyed hotel room. "Seems like we have the same goals."

"Maybe. What are you going to do with that?" The Canary nodded toward the laptop.

"I may be able to get something off it."

"If you do, do you plan on sharing?"

It was a risk, but Oliver had only ever seen the mysterious Canary when she was helping him. "Tomorrow night," he said. "Meet me at the docks at midnight."

"Ominous," the Canary quipped.

"I'll come alone. I assume you'll do the same?"

"We are on the same team, right?"

"I guess that's what we're going to find out."

##=======

It couldn't have been more than an hour since Oliver left the IT department that he got a call from Felicity. He hadn't expected her to find anything so fast. Maybe she was calling to tell him the laptop was a lost cause.

"Hi, Mr. Queen—I mean Oliver," she said. "I recovered some files from that laptop you gave me."

"That was fast," Oliver replied.

"Well, yeah, that's kinda my job. Not that it was easy. Not that I'm bragging. Do you… want to come see what I got? I mean, the files?"

Oliver almost laughed, but he stifled it. "Sure. I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Great! Wow, that sounded way too excited for the circumstances."

"Goodbye, Felicity."

###

Thea dove under a table when the bullets started flying. Mr. Diggle was taking care of her mom and Walter, but she had other things to do. She whipped her cell phone out of the tiny purse she was carrying. It took a bit of work, but she soon accessed Laurel's comm.

"Where are you?" Thea asked.

"Evacuating this building. Where are you?" Laurel replied sharply.

"Safe for now. Is Six out there?"

"I'm on the roof," came Six's always chipper voice. "I can see Deadshot—whoops! He just saw me."

"Please tell me you didn't just get yourself shot," Laurel said.

"Of course not." Six sounded offended. "I just almost got myself shot. Anyway, Robin Hood is on his way to the assassin. I think he's got it covered."

Thea brushed away some broken glass to get into a more comfortable position on the floor. "I didn't have time to get into the surveillance system since I didn't know we were working tonight," she said.

"We have it under control," Laurel said.

"That is actually true," Six agreed. "I'm looking at the feed now, and we seem to have a sword-wielding weirdo distracting the police."

"He's really got a sword?" Thea asked, wishing she could see what Six was seeing.

"Well, he's not using it at the moment. He's mostly just locking doors and creating chaos. I kind of like this guy."

"Focus, Six," Laurel said.

Thea could see her now across the room, checking for any more stragglers. Her gaze fell on Thea's position, and she looked a little beyond irritated.

"Robin Hood's got Deadshot," Six said. "I think you can come out from under the table now, Thea."

Thea carefully avoided more glass and debris as she got to her feet. "That wasn't so bad," she said.

Laurel glared back at her. "You could have been killed. Why didn't you leave when you had the chance?"

"If you had _told_ me what was going on, I would have been somewhere safe keeping an eye on things for you," Thea snapped. "You knew I was—"

"Thea?" Slade's voice echoed from the hallway.

Laurel glanced toward the sound before disappearing through one of the broken windows.

"I'm in here," Thea called, trying to sound a little bit scared.

Slade came through the open doorway, his suit looking rumpled like he had run back for her. "Where have you been?" he asked.

If Thea didn't know better, she'd think he sounded worried. Maybe she didn't know better. "I hid when the shooting started," she replied. "I'm okay."

"Come on." Slade held out his arm. "Your mother is about to become hysterical."

He said it like he was joking, but there was a seriousness in his expression like he knew how it felt. Of course he did. He had lost a child.

They hurried outside and found Moira and Walter standing on the sidewalk. Thea was instantly crushed in a hug from her mom and subjected to teary scolding for a minute or two.

"I'm fine, Mom," Thea finally found the breath to say. She looked around. "Where's Oliver?"

"With Mr. Diggle," Slade answered. "He is perfectly safe."

Relief washed over Moira's face, and Thea couldn't deny feeling it herself. If something had happened to Oliver now, she didn't know what she would do.

###

Six looked down at the nearly dead assassin. He wondered if it would be better to put the man out of his misery. But that wasn't his place. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sherlock.

"I have your wayward freak," he said when the other man answered.

"I take it you won't be making a delivery," came the reply.

"I would, but I've got so much to do here. And you better hurry. Mr. Lawton is bleeding a lot."

"What did you do, Six?"

"Me? Why, I'm hurt that you would think—"

"Six."

"It was Mr. Greenleaf. Stuck an arrow in the guy. I'd have just shot him and put an end to it."

"I know you would. I'm on my way now. Think you can keep an eye on Lawton for a couple of hours?"

"You can get from Gotham to Starling in a couple of hours?"

"I have my ways."

"Sure you do. Just don't take too long. I get bored. And hungry."

"We wouldn't want that."

"And the little bird does ask questions sometimes."

"Don't even think about it."

"I know. I'm not an idiot."

"You could have fooled me."

"Don't you have some kind of bat-plane to fly right now?"

"Auto-pilot."

"Well, in that case, would you like to hear about my day?"

"Goodbye, Six."

"See you soon, Bat-boy."

###

"That went badly," Slade said, emerging from the shadows as soon as John Diggle was out of earshot.

Oliver rubbed his hand over his hair and turned halfway around and back. "I noticed," he said through clenched teeth.

"What were you expecting? That everyone would be as helpful as the cute IT girl?"

"The—the what?"

"You were smiling after you met with her. Both times. I never saw you look like that."

Oliver waved his hand dismissively. "She's funny," he said. "We still have a problem with Diggle."

"You think he'll tell anyone?"

"I don't know. It was a risk."

"One I notice you didn't take with the Canary."

"She's been helpful, but it's probably easier if we don't know each other's identities. We have her to thank for getting all those people out of the exchange building safely."

"I was a little busy making sure the police didn't catch _you_."

"Yes, it's really hard to get away from a guy in a wheelchair."

"The detective is very motivated. Don't think I don't notice how you avoid him whenever you can."

"He hates me. Understandably so, but you'd avoid him too."

"Do you know what happened to him?"

Oliver shook his head. "Laurel hasn't said anything. I'm sure my family knows, but it would be weird to ask."

"Considering he might be arresting you soon, it might be worth finding out."

Oliver sat heavily in the chair next to the computer desk. "I have a plan if that happens."

"Diggle could be going to the police right now."

"I don't think he will."

"You're too trusting for someone who has lived through what you have."

"You trusted me."

"A decision I regret daily."

Oliver stood again and hung up his bow. "I think you should go talk to Felicity tomorrow."

Slade frowned, wondering what Oliver was thinking. "Why should I do that?" he asked.

"She was able to pull files off a laptop full of bullet holes; she might be able to help you find your family."

Slade glared at Oliver, contemplating various ways to point out how stupid that idea was.

"You haven't had a lead in weeks," Oliver said quickly. "I said I'd help you, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do."

"So you think I should involve an unwitting girl in a potentially dangerous endeavor? Well, I suppose that is what you did."

"She's not in any danger."

A sharp retort came to mind, but Slade closed his mouth and swallowed it. Some things shouldn't be said even if they were true. Oliver had no idea how much Slade kept to himself. But he was right about one thing: Slade was out of leads on his family.

"I will think about it," Slade finally said.


	7. Pain and Regrets Over Dinner

**Chapter Seven "Pain and Regrets Over Dinner"**

This was a terrible idea. Slade kept telling himself that as he walked into the brightly lit office. He was well aware that desperation made people do stupid things, and he didn't want to be the cause of an innocent person getting hurt. But he couldn't seem to help himself. He had to know if there was a chance to find his family. From the way Oliver had described Felicity Smoak, she seemed the most likely person to help him.

As Slade approached her desk, he got the opportunity to observe her first since she was on the phone with someone. She tapped her pen on the desk as she swiveled back and forth in her chair.

"Yes, you do need to have the power strip plugged into the outlet," she was saying. "Did that fix it? Great. Glad I could help." She got off the phone and looked up at Slade. "You don't work here," she said, then instantly seemed to regret it.

"No," Slade replied. "Is it that obvious?"

"No. I mean, yes, but what I meant was you're the guy from the news. The one they found with Oliver—Mr. Queen—he said to call him Oliver."

"I'm sure he did. Does everyone know who I am?"

"Yeah. Well, I don't know. You looked a lot more rugged in the pictures. Five years without a barbershop, I suppose. And I'm babbling again. Why are you here? Not that I mind, of course, it's just—"

"I don't work here, I know. Oliver mentioned you might be able to help me find something. But I understand if you would rather not. I doubt helping your boss' step-son's friend is in your job description."

"Technically, Mr. Steele is my boss' boss' boss… I think. Anyway, what is it you're looking for? I'll see what I can do."

Slade contemplated the file folder in his hand. Giving it to Felicity would be admitting to someone other than Oliver that his family was alive. He would have to ask her not to tell anyone. It could put her in danger. The alternative was giving up. Slade couldn't give up.

He held up the folder. "First, I have to know you will not speak of this to anyone, not even Oliver."

"Is it illegal?"

"No. I just don't want him worrying about it. Or anyone."

"Okay. I can keep a secret. I know you wouldn't think so with how much I talk, but really, I won't tell anyone."

Slade let out a heavy breath. "It's my family," he said. "As far as most people are concerned, they died five years ago." He handed Felicity the file. "But they're alive, and I need your help finding them."

Felicity stared at the folder in her hands with wide eyes as if it might bite her.

"I have done all I can to find them on my own," Slade continued. "Oliver seemed to think you might be able to dig up more."

"So, Oliver knows your family is alive, but you don't want me talking to him about this?"

"That's right."

"And everyone else thinks they're dead?"

"Yes."

"I can't imagine anyone asking me about this, but I just wanted to be sure I had the story straight."

"Thank you, Miss Smoak." Slade looked her in the eye, wondering if she had any idea the kind of trouble she could get into. "My contact information is in there." He nodded toward the folder.

"Is this the part where you mysteriously disappear?" Felicity asked.

"I was just going to use the door," Slade said.

"Oh, right. Cool. I'll let you know if I find anything."

###

Slade was just leaving the IT department when his phone rang. He almost thought to ignore it until he saw that it was Oliver's mother calling.

"Mrs. Queen, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he answered.

"Mr. Wilson, I wonder if you could meet me for lunch in the city today," she replied. "There is something I wish to discuss with you."

She sounded matter-of-fact, business-like. But there was also a slight strain in her voices, and Slade thought he had an idea as to the reason.

"I'll clear my schedule," he said.

Moira gave him a time and place, and an hour later, Slade was sitting in a high end cafe across from her. Moira went through all the pleasantries and smalltalk. No one would have known she had been shot at the night before. It wasn't until after they had ordered that she addressed her reason for the meeting.

"First of all, I want to thank you for looking after Thea last night," she said. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to her."

"It was no trouble," Slade said. "I'd want someone to do the same if…"

"I apologize. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"Don't worry about it. Thea is a good kid. I don't mind looking after her."

"That actually brings me to why I wanted to speak with you. I don't know if Oliver mentioned anything, but Mr. Diggle resigned this morning?"

"Did he?" Slade couldn't even pretend to be surprised.

Moira smiled stiffly. "As I'm sure you know, my son can be difficult when he doesn't want to do something."

"I remember a particularly unpleasant evening skinning a boar."

"Yes, well, perhaps we could discuss that when we're not eating."

"Of course. To tell you the truth, I don't think my talking to Oliver is going to have much effect on the situation."

"No, I wasn't going to ask you to talk to him. I was going to offer you the job."

The waiter arrived with the food, giving Slade a moment to process what Moira was suggesting. He knew what his answer had to be, but it had to be worded carefully.

"While I appreciate the offer," he said, "you are already putting a roof over my head. You don't owe me anything. I don't need the job to keep an eye on Oliver. I can't be with him every second, but that is going to be the same with any bodyguard you hire."

Moira looked as if she were trying to decide whether to press the issue or not. "Mr. Wilson—Slade." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Thea told me you had a son."

Slade wished he hadn't told anyone about his family. It was difficult enough to talk about them with Oliver who knew the truth. "What is your point?" he asked, keeping his voice even.

"I lost my son once," Moira said. "You understand what that's like. I can't lose Oliver again."

"And you won't," Slade said. "I will do everything in my power to make sure of it. I told you Oliver saved my life, and I was not being generous. While I would never say it to his face, I owe him more than even he knows. I won't let anything happen to him."

Moira sighed, but she seemed satisfied. "I suppose we can consider this arrangement unofficial then."

###

Six had been sleeping when Laurel left for work in the morning. He hadn't come home until after she fell asleep. That wasn't unusual, but she was starting to wonder what he got up to when he didn't say where he was going. She knew it would do no good to ask, but sometimes, her curiosity overcame logic.

When she arrived home from work, Six was in the kitchen making dinner. It was like he anticipated her every move. Maybe he put a tracking device on her car. Or her phone. She wouldn't put it past him. But if his motives were no more sinister than knowing when the start dinner, she wasn't going to complain. Six wasn't like most people. He wasn't like anyone she had ever met. He didn't like to call her his girlfriend, but he always came back from his mysterious trips genuinely pleased to see her. He always made sure she ate regular meals, and he encouraged her to do the things she loved. He never told her what to do. If he didn't like something she had planned, he said so in a calm, logical way and left it at that. He didn't feel like normal people, but somehow that made their relationship healthier than any Laurel had been in before.

That didn't mean everything was perfect all the time. Laurel had a feeling this would be one of those nights. The stress of dealing with Thea and her father wasn't helping matters either.

The smell of something baking filled the apartment, helping to settle Laurel's nerves. She thought perhaps that might have been a strategic move on Six's part. It was harder to be mad at him when there was food involved. And she wasn't mad at him, really. She just wanted to know why he didn't come home right away.

"Where were you last night?" Laurel asked casually as she hung up her coat and dropped her bag in a chair.

Six was focusing very intently on a pie crust. "I had to stick around to make sure our friendly assassin was taken care of," he said.

"Taken care of?" Laurel couldn't help the hint of alarm in her voice.

"By which I mean, turned over to the… proper authorities."

"I thought the hood guy took care of that?"

"He shot Mr. Lawton in the eye and left him for dead." Six looked up from the pie. "He wasn't dead."

"So, did you turn him over to ARGUS?"

"No, I don't talk to them. Much."

"Then who?"

Six considered the question for a moment. "No, I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"If I told you why, it would be the same as telling you who."

"I don't see any reason this should be a secret."

"Well, it's not up to me. Do you want apple or strawberry pie?"

Laurel leaned against the counter and considered the empty pie crust. "Apple. And don't change the subject."

"Oh, I thought we were finished," Six said as he went to the refrigerator for apples.

"All you said was 'it's not up to me.'"

"It isn't. But I think last night went well. We really could have let Thea watch the cameras, but it all worked out."

"If I had known she was going to be at the auction, I would have told her not to go."

"And she would have ignored you."

"Wonder where she got that from?"

"Hey, I stayed out of it like I promised. You don't want her help, that's fine. Just don't expect her to completely change her personality. You tell her not to do something, she's gonna do it."

Laurel scratched her fingernails on the counter and sighed. "I know. I just want to keep her safe. She's like…"

"Like your sister?" Six gestured with the vegetable peeler. "Maybe try telling her that. Sentimental stuff usually works on her."

"That's so… sweet?"

"I do try. Could you get the spices?"

Laurel took that as the end of the conversation. It hadn't been completely satisfying, but Six did try to be helpful. The smell of dinner cooking and the anticipation of pie afterward didn't hurt either.

###

Late in the day Slade found himself compulsively checking his phone throughout the day in case Felicity called. He still thought involving her was a stupid idea, but it was too late to back out now.

He was absently flipping through his cat behavior book while Deathstroke chased a toy mouse under the coffee table when his phone finally rang.

"Hello?" Slade answered without looking to see who it was.

"Mr. Wilson? It is Mr. Wilson, right?" Felicity's nervous voice replied.

"Slade is fine. Did you find something?"

"I'm not exactly sure what I found. Maybe you can make sense of it. The office is closed now, but I can meet you somewhere."

"Have you eaten?"

"No. Is that important?"

"You have my address. I'll make something. Unless you would prefer a public place."

"Your place is fine. I mean, you've got a cat, so how scary can you be?"

Slade frowned and glanced over at Deathstroke. "How did you know that?"

"Oh, there was cat hair on your sleeve. And inside the folder you gave me. Is it weird that I noticed that?" She seemed to be asking herself more than anything.

"Any requests for dinner?" Slade asked, choosing to ignore the cat thing.

"As long as it's kosher, anything's fine. Sorry, is that rude?"

Slade chuckled. "You are the one doing me a favor. How soon can you get here?"

"With traffic? Give me thirty minutes."

Slade thought that was a bit optimistic, but he didn't mention it. He ended the conversation and got started on dinner. The thought of learning something helpful about his family kept his mind occupied. He knew how cruel hope could be, but that didn't stop him from feeling it. Felicity indicated that she didn't understand the information she uncovered. Slade had always known it wouldn't be as simple as finding an address. And even that wouldn't be simple. A lot could change in five years, as Slade had seen with Oliver's family. He hadn't left home on the best of terms either. There was a distinct possibility that Adeline didn't want Slade to know where she and Joe were. But he had to keep trying.

When Felicity arrived, Slade had just finished dinner and was feeding Deathstroke, who howled at the top of his tiny lungs at the sight of food. As he opened the door, Slade noticed a worried look in Felicity's eyes.

"I thought someone might have died," she said, clutching a small laptop computer to her chest.

"No, just dinner time," Slade replied, gesturing for her to come in.

Deathstroke rushed over, licking his lips, to greet the new person.

Felicity crouched to pet him, still holding her computer close. "So, you spend years stranded on an island, and the first thing you do back in civilization is get a cat?"

"He wasn't my idea."

Felicity tucked her computer under her arm and picked up the cat. "He's cute, though. How do they get his fur like that? You know, I read somewhere that male tortoiseshell cats are rare."

"Fascinating. Are you hungry?"

Felicity set Deathstroke down, much to his annoyance. "Actually, I'm starving. I sort of forgot to eat lunch."

"Not on my account?" Slade asked, leading the way into the dining room.

"There were other things. You'd be surprised how many people don't know the monitor has to be plugged into the computer to work."

"I'm afraid you will find me rather technologically limited."

"Well, yeah." Felicity sat in the chair Slade pulled out for her. "Five years with no electricity? I don't think I would survive."

"I didn't miss electricity as much as you might think." Slade set two place of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes on the table and sat down. "Modern medicine would have been nice, a roof and four walls, maybe a meal I didn't have to kill."

Felicity swallowed a bite of chicken with a nervous look in her eyes.

"This one came from a store," Slade assured her.

"It's really good," she said. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who likes to cook. Actually, I don't know what kind of guy would strike me as one who likes to cook."

"We come in many forms."

"I can barely boil water. I eat a lot of sandwiches and takeout."

"I'll send you home with the leftovers."

Felicity tilted her head. "You're a lot nicer than I expected. Not that I expected you wouldn't be. I mean—I just—"

Slade put up his hand to stop her. "I think I know what you mean. I give a certain impression."

"Sort of like a pirate. Did I just say that out loud?"

Slade chuckled softly. "I'm not sensitive about having one eye."

"Oh, good. I mean, not that you only have one eye… Did you want to see what I found?" Felicity gestured to the computer that was now sitting in her lap.

"You should finish eating unless you want to share." Slade looked down at the floor where Deathstroke was watching Felicity with interest. Slade nudged him with his foot. "Go on, you have food."

Felicity hurried through the rest of her food as if worried she wouldn't be able to protect it. Slade cleared the plates while she set up her computer on the table. By the time he came back, she already had several files on the screen. Slade realized he had been putting this off. He could have asked Felicity to show him while they ate, but something in him didn't want to know. Even if what she found only led to more questions, he almost thought it might be better continuing in his current state of ignorance. It wasn't; he knew it wasn't. So, he sat down next to her and attempted to be prepared for anything.

"I asked you before if there was anything illegal going on," Felicity said. "You said there wasn't, and I'm going to believe you because you're Oliver's friend, and you're nice, and you have a cat. But this looks really weird."

"What does?" Slade asked.

Felicity gestured toward the screen. "First off, your wife's finances. Everything seems pretty normal up until about four years ago. She inherited all this money from her parents which I'm sure you know because you were on the accounts. But then when you were stranded on the island, all the money suddenly disappeared. I tried everything I could to trace it, but it's like it just ceased to exist. Well, except for this one account in your name."

"What?"

"See there? You didn't know?"

"It's not like she left a note."

"I guess maybe she wanted to make sure you had something to live on if you were, you know, still alive."

"That would assume she had some reason to think I was still alive. Is it an old account or one she set up while I was missing?"

"It looks like this account was created in 2008."

"I was still on the island then. That doesn't make sense."

"Maybe she hoped you were still alive? Anyway, that was a few months before she went off the radar. It's like she was planning to disappear, but I can't figure out why."

"Why is not important. It's probably better if you don't ask."

"Do you know why?"

Slade shook his head. "No. I have theories."

"I feel like there's something important you're not telling me."

"There are a lot of things I'm not telling you. I did not want to involve you at all, but…"

"But?"

"It was Oliver's idea, but he's an idiot, so I don't know why I listen to him."

"He's your friend. And he wants to help you. I do too, but there's only so much I can do when I don't know what I'm looking for."

Slade nodded toward the computer. "Did you find anything else?"

"Not much of any use. There's still the houses. One in Canberra and the vacation home in Gotham City. Who vacations in Gotham City?"

"It was Adeline's parents' home. She grew up there. I have never even been to that house."

"Someone is still paying the property taxes. And you would think I would be able to trace that, but I keep going in circles of shell companies."

"So there's no chance she's living in Gotham?"

"Considering the utilities bill has been $0 for the past five years or so, I'd say no. And if she was hiding, she wouldn't go to a house people know she owns, would she?"

"No, she wouldn't. She would go somewhere no one would think to look for her. Not even me."

"Did something happen? I mean, is there some reason she wouldn't want you to find her?"

Slade considered the question carefully. It was one he hadn't wanted to ask himself all this time. He still didn't have a good answer. "We argued before I left," he finally said. "But Adeline has never been one to run from a fight. I think something else must have made her go into hiding."

"So… is there someone who would want to hurt her?"

Slade was about to say that she shouldn't ask when someone knocked at the door. He wasn't expecting company. He reached for the gun he had attached to the underside of the table and stood slowly.

"What is that for?" Felicity asked in an alarmed voice.

"I haven't trained the cat to attack unwanted visitors yet," Slade quipped.

Felicity did not seem the least bit reassured, but Slade was already walking over to the door. He looked through the hole and let out a relieved breath. He set the gun on the table next to the door before opening it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Were you going to shoot me?" Oliver replied, glancing at the gun with an amused look in his eyes.

"I was thinking about it."

"I just stopped by to—hello?" Oliver had just noticed Felicity sitting at the table.

She quickly closed her laptop and stood. "Hi," she said. "We were just… talking about…"

"He knows what we were talking about," Slade said moving back into the dining room. "I'll wrap up those leftovers for you."

Oliver followed. "Did you find anything helpful?"

"Not really," Slade answered before Felicity was forced to try to awkwardly brush off the question.

Oliver frowned. He knew Slade was purposefully keeping him out of it, but he didn't seem inclined to argue. At least not with an audience.

Slade wrapped the rest of the food in foil and brought it to Felicity. "Thank you for trying," he said.

She nodded as she took the food. "Thanks for dinner," she replied. "I'll go over this again. Maybe there's something I missed."

"You've done enough."

She shrugged. "I like the challenge. And maybe there will be more food in it for me." She smiled and picked up her laptop before leaving the apartment.

Slade put the gun away and did his best to ignore Oliver's passive-aggressive silence. He wasn't going to volunteer information.

"Is there some reason you came?" he finally asked as he started to clean the kitchen.

"Yes, I came to tell you that Diggle is back," he said.

Slade gave Oliver a disbelieving look. "Really?"

"I can be persuasive under the right circumstances."

"I'm sure this makes your mother very happy."

"Yes, she's stopped giving me worried and disapproving looks every time she sees me. She said she talked to you."

Slade hoped she had been vague. "She is a very involved mother."

"What I want to know is how you've managed to endear yourself to everyone I know in the span of a couple weeks."

"I'm a lovable person. But you were saying about Mr. Diggle?"

"He's in. I may still need backup from you now and then, but it should give you more flexibility for your _other_ pursuits."

"If you want to say something, just say it, kid."

Oliver crossed his arms and looked directly at Slade. "Why don't you want me to know about your family?"

Slade turned to the sink to scrub the chicken pan. "You have more important things to worry about."

"Don't insult me. I know you don't really think I'm that stupid."

Slade smirked. "You sure about that?"

"Why are you avoiding the issue?"

Slade turned to face Oliver. "Why the sudden interest? You've never asked me about this before."

"Because you clearly didn't want to talk about it, and I respected that, but it's different now."

"How is it different?"

"You're the one who said involving civilians was a bad idea." Oliver gestured toward the door. "So you just invited Felicity over to expand your social circle?"

"That was your idea."

"And you said it was too dangerous. If you can't even tell me what's going on, how much worse is it for Felicity?"

"I'm not worried about _you_."

"Then what is it? Why can't you talk about it?"

Slade knew this conversation would happen eventually, but he had been hoping to put it off a while longer. He knew he would have to give Oliver some kind of answer. It wasn't enough to say he didn't want to talk about it. They had been through hell together; it was about time Slade started actually trusting Oliver with things that mattered. He still didn't want to.

"You would not want to talk about it either," he began, "if you were faced with the prospect that when you found your family, they might not _want_ to see you."

Oliver was stunned into silence for a moment. "Why wouldn't they want to see you?" he asked.

Slade shook his head. "It's a long story. Adeline and I argued before I left. The last thing Joe said to me was 'don't go.' I went anyway. I always thought I could work things out after I got home. But maybe it's been too long."

"You don't know until you find them."

"Of course not. But Joe has lived half his life without me. Think of how difficult it has been for you to connect with your sister, how much she has changed. And then imagine it from your father's perspective."

Oliver got that look in his eyes he always had when his father came up. As long as they were talking about pain and regrets, might as well cover everything.

"Can I ask," Oliver started, "why _did_ you go?"

Slade let out a humorless laugh. "I thought I was doing something important, something good."

"I would have died if you hadn't been on that island."

"That is less than comforting."

Oliver shrugged. "It's all I have. Whatever happens, it won't be easy. But you don't have to do this alone."

"Better," Slade said with a hint of a smile.


	8. Is There Gluten in These Breadcrumbs?

**Chapter Eight "Is There Gluten in These Breadcrumbs?"**

Adeline ran her hand through her dark hair and swallowed a sigh. She longed for some way to relieve the tension that had built up in her shoulders over the past four years—longer, if she were honest with herself. She couldn't hide forever. That was no life, especially for Joe.

"Mom!" the voice of her ten-year-old son filled the small house. He ran into the front room where she was staring out the bay window onto the street below. "I'm bored."

Adeline looked down at Joe. "Read a book," she said. She had lost count of the number of times she said that.

"I've read all the books," he replied. "Can we go to the library?"

"Not today. Play your piano."

"I've played all the songs I know. Can I go outside?"

"No. Not today."

"You said that yesterday. And the day before. And all week." Joe flopped down onto the couch dramatically.

"It's a bad week," Adeline acknowledged. "Why don't you look at the photo albums. You like that."

Joe sighed. "Yeah, but I always feel…" He waved his hands vaguely, unable to express his feelings.

 _Empty_ , Adeline thought. _All those blank pages in the back_. "Yeah, me too."

"Are we ever going to leave here?"

"Not this week."

"Why don't we go find Dad? We'll be safe wherever he is."

Adeline shook her head, unable to formulate a logical answer. "No, we won't."

###

No matter how smart he thought he was, there were always factors Oliver didn't take into consideration. Which should explain why Slade was sitting in a police station at the moment. Detective Lance rolled into the interview room with a sour look on his face. It was the only expression Slade had ever seen him wear. The man had lost his daughter, which was enough to make anyone bitter, but there seemed to be more to it. He hated Oliver, which was also understandable, but that wasn't it either.

"Is this going to take very long?" Slade asked. "I have to get home to feed my cat."

Lance looked like he wanted to laugh but had forgotten how. "You seem pretty calm for a guy whose friend just got charged with murder."

Slade shook his head. "That kid couldn't kill a bird to keep himself from starving. I think you are letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"Fortunately, what you think is irrelevant." Lance opened a very thin folder. "I did some research, and the best I can come up with, you don't exist. Least, not on paper."

"I'm a private person."

"Or maybe you're hiding from something. What were you doing on that island anyway?"

"Haven't you heard? My plane crashed."

"You fly planes?"

"Sometimes."

"Alone?"

"No."

"So you weren't the only one on the island?"

"I was the only one to survive. What does this have to do with Oliver?"

"I was getting to that."

"Could you move it along? I really do have a cat."

"All right then, Mr. Wilson." Lance leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "What were you doing on the night of the shooting at the exchange building?"

"I was there. Oliver's family invited me."

"I saw you. But once the shooting started, you disappeared. I couldn't find you on any of the security cameras."

"I was helping Oliver's family get outside safely. When realized his sister wasn't with them, I went back inside for her."

"You went back inside while the whole place was getting shot to hell?"

"The shooting had stopped by then. You can ask Mr. Steele and Mr. Diggle. I was with one or both of them the whole time."

"And where was Mr. Queen in all this?"

"He got outside and then left. Mr. Diggle was injured."

"And you just happened to miss every single camera in the building while the shooting was going on? That's awful convenient."

"Perhaps they need to upgrade their security system."

"Now, see, the cameras did pick this up." Lance slid a photo from the folder across the table. It showed Oliver pulling a hood out of a bag in the stairwell.

"He said he found it there," Slade said. "I'm sure in all the confusion, he must have dropped it."

"You know, I expected you to be more defensive. He's your friend, and you don't seem concerned about proving his innocence."

"Innocence?" Slade laughed. "The man slept with his girlfriend's sister. Innocent is not a word I would use to describe Oliver Queen."

Lance bristled at the mention of his daughters. "Why'd you save him then? How could you be a friend to a man like that?"

"Your daughter asked me the same question. But suppose I had let him die. Maybe I would still have two eyes. Maybe I would be dead too. But what kind of monster would leave a helpless kid to the wolves?" Slade shrugged. "Even if he was an asshole."

Lance shook his head. "Oliver Queen is a murderer. You may not have known it then, but I think you know now. And soon everyone will know the truth. You wanna be charged as an accessory? Not my problem."

Lance backed his wheelchair away from the table and turned toward the door.

"Detective?" Slade said, standing.

"What?" Lance turned his head to face Slade.

"I have to say, I admire your determination. Whatever put you in that chair hasn't slowed you down."

"I got shot," Lance said. "Lotsa guys aren't so lucky. And if you think this—" He pointed at his chair. "—is gonna keep me from taking down anyone involved with the Hood, you are mistaken."

###

As soon as Moira left the office, Laurel flopped down in her desk chair. She couldn't believe Oliver would ask her to represent him with all that had happened between them. She was getting past her anger, but that didn't mean she wanted to defend him in court. It would mean spending a lot of time together, and that wasn't something Laurel wanted to do any time soon. To her credit, Moira had seemed embarrassed by the request.

Laurel knew she should just forget about it, but she wasn't very good at ignoring other people's stupidity.

A fragrant paper bag landed on her desk, startling her out of her thoughts. "Just a bit of heart disease for you," Six said with a smile as he leaned against the desk holding his own lunch sack.

"You know it's sugar that causes heart disease, not fat, right?" Laurel replied, grinning as she opened the bag.

"Pretty sure it's full of that too."

Laurel pulled out the giant cheeseburger and started unwrapping it. "This has got to be the best bad to good day transition ever."

"Of course." Six popped a few fries in his mouth. "Your day is always bad until I show up."

"It's sad how true that is. But I was thinking about my last visitor."

"Hmm, let's see… Well, your least favorite person is in jail, so…"

"First of all, Oliver is not my least favorite person. That would be whoever invented nutrition labels. Second of all, it was his mother."

"The mother of the guy who invented nutrition labels?" Six looked at his burger in confusion as if it might hold the answer.

"No, Oliver. Moira stopped by a few minutes ago. She said Oliver wanted me to represent him."

"What, like in court? Isn't that… crazy? I mean, I'm no one to talk, but that's crazy, right?"

"Completely. She didn't seem to want to ask me, but I guess he insisted. He figures I know he's not the Hood because I know him _so well_. But it's such a conflict of interest to represent a guy my dad arrested, not to mention someone I was involved with."

Six wrinkled his nose. "You didn't have to mention it." He took another bite and spoke through it. "How is your dad doing with all this?"

"You know him. He hates Oliver and blames him for Sara's death. He hates the hood guy because he breaks the law. It's convenient for him to believe they're the same person."

"Well, it is easier when the people you hate are condensed I suppose. It would take up less energy."

"Maybe if he spent less energy hating people, he'd feel better."

"Hey, didn't I teach you that?" Six smiled like he won something.

Laurel kicked his leg playfully. "You've been good for me. Except I think I've gained weight."

"Most of it is muscle," Six assured her. "Not that it matters."

"You really mean that or are you just saying it because you're supposed to?"

"I only say things I'm supposed to if I think they're probably true."

"Probably?"

"I'm crazy, remember? What's obvious to you isn't to me. And vice versa."

Laurel swirled her fries in a puddle of sauce. "I don't think that makes you crazy. You're just special."

Six made a face. "Somehow, that sounds worse."

###

Slade watched as Diggle wrestled his arm out of the sleeve of Oliver's green leather jacket that was clearly too small.

"What I want to know," Diggle said holding the jacket at arm's length, "is why he didn't ask you to do this."

Slade chuckled. "I wouldn't be caught dead in that thing."

Diggle grumbled something unintelligible as he hung the jacket on the mannequin.

"If you were expecting me to be able to explain half of Oliver's idiotic ideas, you are going to be disappointed."

"You guys are best buddies, right?"

"I find it's better to keep a certain amount of distance."

Diggle shook his head. "That's no way to live, man."

"I had a best friend once. He betrayed me, and I put a sword through his brain."

For a moment, Diggle didn't say anything. He adjusted some of the arrows in the quiver on the table next to him and unstrung the bow. "Then why are you here?" he finally asked, turning to look Slade in the eye.

It wasn't the sort of question Slade expected from Diggle. He had his reasons, but he wasn't about to justify them. "The kid grows on you," he said. "And where else am I gonna go?"

Diggle shook his head. "There's more to it. But you go ahead and keep your deep, dark secrets. Sooner or later, they'll eat you alive."

It was rare that Slade was genuinely surprised. Thea getting him a cat definitely qualified. That, and Diggle in general. What had seemed to be another of Oliver's stupidly risky decisions had turned out better than he could have planned. Slade had to wonder if Oliver knew what he had taken on in making Diggle his partner. At the same time, it was gratifying to know Oliver was in good hands. Not that Slade would ever admit to Oliver that he cared.

"I think this is going to work out nicely, Mr. Diggle," Slade said with a smile.

###

If Felicity believed in fate or stars aligning or any of that, she might think that the universe was conspiring around her. It started when Oliver Queen walked into her office and asked her to retrieve data from a bullet-riddled laptop. Clearly suspicious. Then he sent his friend to her for help finding a missing family. The final piece came when Walter Steele called her into his office. After getting over the fear of being fired, she started to notice a pattern. People kept asking her for help on secret projects.

And she was happy to help. Oliver was strangely compelling with his nervous smile and terrible lies. He appreciated her skills in a way the people she worked with didn't. Slade was a contradiction of scariness and kindness and phenomenal cooking skills. It didn't matter that he didn't work at the company. She wanted to help him because it was a good thing to do. Mr. Steele was actually her boss three times removed, so she didn't have much of a choice, but the way he talked to her like she was important and smart and…

Felicity needed to get out more. She needed to make some friends or something. She had been so isolated since she had moved to Starling City after college. She didn't really have friends at work or in her neighborhood. She didn't know why. She could have gone out and met people. But it seemed like every day she just went to work and went home. She ate alone and slept alone. She didn't even have a goldfish.

There was still so much she didn't know about the work she was doing. There was a good chance it could be dangerous, considering the bullet holes and secrecy. But if she was doing something that mattered more than fixing cubicle dwellers' computers so they could get back to playing solitaire, maybe the risk was worth it.

She thought this as she sat in her office late at night, switching back and forth between projects. She really should go home. There was still some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes calling her name. But the thought of it made her turn back to her search. A woman and a child couldn't just cease to exist. They were somewhere out there. Some ATM or traffic camera somewhere must have caught them. Felicity would find them no matter what it took.

###

The wind whipped his cape behind him as he crossed the rooftop toward the man in the orange reflective sunglasses.

"It's almost midnight," Batman said in his most judgmental tone.

"What's your point?" Six replied, taking a small bag of chips from his jacket pocket.

"The sunglasses?"

"You're wearing a batsuit. I think my trademark is just a little less silly." He crunched his chips noisily.

"Did you handle the situation?"

"I mean, you don't want me to kill the girl, do you?"

"Of course not. But she's going to find something eventually."

"I'll give her a few breadcrumbs. I've done it before."

"Before, he was distracted. Now, he's got nothing better to do with his time."

"Well, there is the cat."

"Take care of it, Six. I don't have to remind you what could happen if Slade Wilson ever finds his family."

Six shook his head. "I know the stakes better than you do, Bruce. If you think I'd let anything happen to them, you don't know me very well."

"Can anyone say they know you well?"

Six shrugged. "Some people try."


	9. Various States of Mental Stability

**Chapter Nine "Various States of Mental Stability"**

A shrill noise startled Slade awake, and he reached for the knife hidden in the headboard before he realized the sound was coming from his phone. The clock on the bedside table read 1:53 in glaring red. Slade was about to silence the phone when he saw Felicity's name on the caller-ID. He rubbed his eye as he answered.

"What did you find?"

"Sorry to bother you so late—early. I just—I think I found something, and I thought you'd want to know."

Slade sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "What is it?"

"Some minor activity on an account in the name of Rose Kane in Vancouver. Canada, not Washington. It might be nothing, but you said that was an alias Adeline might use."

Slade had a hard time believing she would be that careless, but it was the first real lead he'd had in more than a year. "Do you have an address?"

"Yeah, I'll text it to you. It was an ATM. I'm working on accessing it's camera now. And I'll see if I can find any apartments or hotels in that name."

"Were you planning on sleeping at any point?"

"Sleep—oh. I'm going to regret this aren't I?"

"Get some rest. I'll stop by your office on your lunch break. I have some things to put in order here anyway."

"Okay. I'll leave my search running so I should have something more by then."

"Thank you, Miss Smoak."

"Oh, you can call me Felicity."

"Felicity. I'll see you tomorrow."

Slade ended the call and looked around the room. Deathstroke slept soundly at the foot of the bed. Slade would have to find something to do with him. He would ask Thea to watch him, but considering her mother was allergic, that might not be a good idea. The thought occurred to him to leave the cat with Six, but he might come back to find it stuffed. Then Slade remembered Laurel. She seemed like the kind of person who would be happy to take care of someone's cat. Driving Six crazy was just a bonus.

###

Oliver woke to a text message from Slade saying "Going out of town for a few days." No details. Oliver knew better than to ask. He wanted to help, but Slade was going to have to ask for it.

In the meantime, Oliver had plenty to do with getting Diggle up to speed on how he did things and plans for the nightclub. Tommy was nothing but supportive, of course. Although, his version of being supportive was dragging Oliver across the city to visit every. Single. Nightclub. In some ways, Oliver was glad Slade wouldn't be around for this. Gregarious as Tommy was, he would want to invite Slade, and that would not go over well. As if reading his mind, Tommy broached the subject at breakfast.

"Hey, where's your friend with the impaired vision?" he asked, mid-bite.

Oliver gave him a withering stare, but it would do no good.

Tommy raised his hands defensively. "Chicks dig that kind of thing," he said. "I mean, what does he do all day long alone with a cat? Whose idea was that anyway?"

Oliver measured his words carefully. "Thea got Slade the cat," he said, trying to avoid the other thing. "He's trying to train it to attack burglars or something."

"It's weird. You should have brought him along today. I mean, there's not much to do before the sun goes down, but—"

"Tommy," Oliver interrupted. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can assure you, Slade does not."

"What do you mean? Is he gay?"

Oliver laughed. "No. He's just… not really over his wife, you know?"

"The one that died five years ago?"

"Some people take longer to move on. I don't think he really wants to. I'm telling you this so you don't find yourself in an uncomfortable position in the near future."

Tommy scoffed. "Don't you think if he met the right person, or, you know, any person, it might be good for him?"

"When I say you might find yourself in an uncomfortable position, I mean that Slade might choke you to death if you try to set him up with anyone." Oliver regarded Tommy with a serious stare to carry the weight of his words.

For a second, Tommy looked nervous. Then he laughed it off. "Sure," he said. "I won't mention it again. Scout's honor and all." He held up his hand and made a peace sign.

"It's… three fingers."

"What?"

"Never mind. Where are we going first?"

Tommy launched into a detailed description of all the places they were going to visit in order, listing their advantages and disadvantages as competition for Oliver's club. It shouldn't have been surprising how much effort Tommy put into this whole thing, but he had always been such an expert at doing nothing. Maybe this would be good for both of them. Though Oliver had spent plenty of time with Tommy since his return, it never felt like they were really connecting until now.

Yes, Oliver had a good feeling about this.

###

Six was just placing a heaping plate of steaming pancakes in front of Laurel when her phone rang. She answered as she cut into the pancakes.

"Hello?" She took a bite.

"Hello, Laurel. This is Slade Wilson. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

Laurel took a sip of coffee and swallowed. "Sure, what can I do for you?" She didn't think to wonder why Slade would be asking her for anything when they had known each other only a few weeks.

Six came around the counter and kissed the top of her head. He mouthed the word "bye" before grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. Laurel waved with the three fingers not required to hold her fork.

"If it isn't too much trouble," Slade said. "I am going out of town for a few days, and I need someone to watch my cat."

"Is this the cat Thea got you?" Laurel asked.

"Yes. I would ask her, but her mother has allergies."

"Yeah, she mentioned that. But I think it should be fine. My apartment is pretty loose about that kind of stuff."

"Thank you. Can I bring him by this morning?"

"Sure. I leave for work in about an hour."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

As Laurel ended the call, she realized she had never told Slade where she lived. Oliver or Thea must have told him, she reasoned. It was a little odd that he was asking her to watch his cat, but Six had been trying to make him feel welcome, so maybe that accounted for it.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Slade showed up with a cat carrier, food, and a small litter box. The kitten in question scurried back and forth in his carrier, eager to be out.

"I apologize for the sudden inconvenience," Slade said. "This trip was rather unexpected."

Laurel opened the carrier and picked up the kitten. He was all fluff and claws. "Where are you going?" she asked conversationally.

Slade hesitated as if he hadn't expected to be asked that. "British Columbia," he said.

The shortness of his answer told Laurel not to ask further. She was used to that sort of thing with Six, so it didn't seem as strange as maybe it should have. "So what's this little guy's name?" she asked, scratching the cat's ears as he purred at her.

"Deathstroke," Slade said.

Laurel raised her eyebrows. "Should I be worried?"

"He is a marshmallow unless it comes to food. Or flies."

"Well, okay, Deathstroke," she said to the cat. "You are in good hands. My boyfriend cooks constantly. Even cat biscuits."

Slade smiled like something was funny. "I brought his food," he said. "And I should only be gone two or three days. I'll let you know for sure."

Laurel shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I never had a cat. My dad hates them. So this should be fun."

"Perhaps I should not have mentioned him during the interrogation, then."

"I'm sorry about that. He can be too aggressive sometimes."

"He takes his job very seriously. I can respect that."

Laurel nodded absently. "That is certainly true."

###

After leaving Laurel's place, Slade went back home to make sure he had everything ready for his trip. He couldn't risk bringing a weapon along and getting stopped at the border. He would have to improvise once he got to Vancouver. With any luck—which he didn't believe in at all—there would be no need for weapons.

As he zipped the small duffel bag of clothes, Slade noticed his hands shaking. He flexed his fingers and ran them over his head. He couldn't let nerves affect him now. The thought that he might see his family within the next 24 hours had set his heart racing since the night before. He hadn't slept at all after Felicity called him, planning his trip down to the minute. But he needed to get control, to take back that semblance of composure he always wore to keep the swarm of emotions just beneath the surface. So far, he had everyone fooled. Oliver knew only a little of how volatile Slade could become, and that was under the influence of mind-altering super-drugs. Six knew the truth. Six knew everything.

It didn't matter. If he found his family, Slade would finally have closure, for better or worse. The conflict would finally settle, and he could go back to being calm and collected in sincerity.

As he prepared to leave, Slade looked around the apartment as if expecting to see the cat until he remembered he wasn't there. It surprised Slade how quickly he had grown accustomed to his new surroundings. But perhaps it shouldn't have. He had always been that way. A week or two alone on the island had been all that was necessary to turn him into the man Oliver met over a year later. Slade could break his whole life into stages, and each stage changed him in some way without his knowledge or consent. He could only see it looking back. Perhaps he was an entirely different person than the one who left home six years ago. Perhaps chasing the past was a futile endeavor. But he had to try.

Slade left the apartment and stopped to pick up lunch on his way to Felicity's office. His way of repaying favors lately seemed to consist of food. When he arrived at the office, everyone else was gone on their lunch break, which was just as well. Felicity was too engrossed in what she was doing to notice his approach.

"I had a feeling you would need this," he said, alerting her to his presence as he held up the bag of food.

Felicity looked up at him with a bewildered expression, a red pen hanging out of the corner of her mouth. She grabbed the pen and tossed it on the desk. "Oh! Thank you," she said. "I didn't even think about lunch."

Slade set the bag down on the desk. "That was the feeling I was talking about."

"You're very perceptive." Felicity peered into the bag. "Mind if I eat and talk?"

"You'd better before it gets cold."

Felicity grabbed a cheeseburger and unwrapped it before pointing to her computer screen. "I dug up a little more this morning," she said. "Still no visual confirmation though. A lot of cameras seem to be conveniently blocked or out of order."

"That is not surprising."

Felicity seemed to want to question that statement, but she didn't. "Grab a chair," she said instead, gesturing to the desk across from hers.

Slade made a mental note to return the chair to its owner before the end of the IT department's lunch break. Once he had a good view of the computer screens, Felicity continued.

"I searched hotels and apartments in the area to see if 'Rose' was staying anywhere," she said. "I didn't find anything, but then I widened the search, and there's a vacation rental house outside the city that was paid for with the same card used at the ATM yesterday."

"You have an address?" Slade asked.

Felicity dug around some papers on her desk and pulled out a printed map. "This should get you there," she said. "I feel like this is the part where I should say 'be careful' because this whole thing is really suspicious."

"I know," Slade replied. "I'm sorry I got you involved. There did not seem to be an alternative."

"I asked you before if someone wanted to hurt your family, and you didn't answer. Do you think… could the police or the FBI or something help?"

Slade wanted to laugh. "The police can't help. I don't know who is after them, but the list of possibilities is short and full of powerful people. Which is why you should erase everything you've found and tell no one of this."

Felicity nodded. "You should at least take someone with you like Oliver. It would be safer."

Slade shook his head. "No, this is something I have to do alone. Don't worry about me, Felicity. I have been through worse."

Felicity stared down at her desk. "Okay…" she said. "You'll let me know how things turn out? Not that it's any of my business, but I'm kind of invested now."

"I'll let you know," Slade replied with a smile.

He understood what Oliver saw in her, though he didn't condone the association. Felicity was a nice girl with a safe existence. Slade could only hope his brief acquaintance with her wouldn't get her into any trouble.

###

The afternoon traffic on I-5 was perhaps not as bad as it could have been, but it still felt like it took forever to get away from the city. It was hard to believe that in a few hours, Slade might see his family. He still tried not to get his hopes up, but it was impossible. After six years, he was tired of waiting, of searching in vain. But he had found promising leads before, and they all led to nothing. Slade had considered that this could be his punishment. That he was paying for leaving the way he did. That he deserved this.

It wasn't rational, but Slade had never been rational.

Eventually, the traffic thinned, and time began to pass more quickly. Slade used one of his many false identities from his days with ASIS to cross the border just in case anyone were watching for him. He hadn't run into any real trouble in his search before, but he was always careful.

It was getting dark as Slade drove the winding road that lead to the rental house. He was so close now. Over the years, he had gone over what he would say when he saw Adeline, but he still felt unprepared. How could any words be enough? Slade remembered with fondness that Adeline had always seemed to know what he was thinking without him saying anything, but too much time had passed for him to expect that to still be the case.

As he turned a corner, and the house came into view, Slade noticed a car parked outside and a single light on inside. He stopped in the driveway and got out of the car. If he gave himself time to think, he would take forever to get to the door, so he didn't bother thinking. He walked up the front steps and knocked before he had the chance to feel nervous. More than he already was.

The sound of footsteps retreating alerted Slade that something was wrong. He tested the doorknob, and found that it was unlocked. He moved quickly through the dark entryway and into the living room where one small lamp illuminated a dark figure in front of a wide window.

"You," Slade said in something like a growl.

"Well… this is awkward," Six replied.

The single light in the living room cast an eerie glow on Six's face. Slade's mind raced to analyze all the possible reasons for him to be here. None of them were good.

"I am going to kill you," Slade said.

Six drew a gun and pointed it vaguely in Slade's direction. "That would be rather inconvenient for me," he said. "I was supposed to be gone by now, but your little friend was keeping me busy."

Slade noticed the laptop computer tucked under Six's arm. So he had been blocking Felicity from accessing the cameras.

"She's got nothing to do with this," Slade said.

"That is entirely up to you."

"If you hurt her—"

Six laughed. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not the threat here. You are."

Slade didn't have time for this nonsense. "Where are Adeline and Joe?"

"If I were going to tell you, I would have by now."

"Why are you hiding them? Do they even know I'm alive?"

Six's face twisted into an expression Slade had never seen him wear before. He almost looked angry. "They know," he said.

"Then why—"

"She doesn't want you to know," Six snapped. But he recovered quickly, and gave Slade a sarcastic smile. "Is that so hard to believe? I mean, considering the last time you saw my sister, you didn't really expect she would want to see you?"

It was as if Six were repeating Slade's own thoughts to him. And that was unacceptable. Slade feinted to the right and then dodged to the left, catching Six's gun arm, and using the other man's weight to throw him off balance. The gun clattered to the floor, and Slade scrambled after it, turning it on Six.

Six didn't blink; he had let Slade win.

"You gonna shoot me now?" Six said. "You know it won't do any good. Plus we're family and all that."

Slade shot Six in the shoulder. It wouldn't slow him down, but it felt good anyway. "You are not my family," Slade said.

Six looked at the blood dripping down his arm and onto the carpet. "Damn it. Now I won't get the deposit back."

The sound of a car approaching the house drew Six's attention away from his injury.

"Were you expecting someone?" Slade asked.

"Well, I was going to be long gone and let you deal with the dragon lady. You know, I really don't feel like getting shot again tonight?"

"Then maybe if you tell me where my family is, we can get out of here."

"I'd much rather sit back and watch you and Wally threaten each other for a few hours. It's so entertaining."

"So, it is Waller? She's the one after Adeline?"

"I wasn't going to tell you, but she's at the door."

As if on cue, Amanda Waller walked into the room. When she saw Slade and Six standing there, she actually rolled her eyes. "You two again," she said in a deadpan voice. "Why is it always you two?"

Slade pointed the gun at Amanda. "Where is Adeline?" he asked.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here, obviously," she replied, glaring at Six. "She has the irritating tendency to trust her psychotic brother more than she should."

"Hey, you know how much I hate labels," Six said. "And you didn't always think I was so bad."

"An error in judgment that will not be repeated." Amanda nodded toward Slade. "You should be pointing that thing at your brother-in-law. He's the one who knows where your family is."

"Yeah, but I already shot him, and it didn't do any good," Slade said.

"Shooting me would do you even less good."

"Great," Six said. "Can I have my gun back?"

"No," Slade said.

"Well," Amanda said. "This has been an enormous waste of time. I'm sure I will be seeing you both again much sooner than I would like."

She turned to leave. Slade considered trying to get more out of her, but she clearly knew nothing. Adeline didn't ever have the best relationship with Amanda. She would have told no one but Six where she was going.

As the sound of her car faded in the distance, Slade turned back to Six who at least had the decency to look a little pale from his gunshot wound.

"There's nothing I can do to make you tell me, is there?" he asked.

Six shook his head. "Adeline told me not to," he said. "And the way you abandoned them with the baby on the way… I'm mentally unstable and even I know that's not right."

###

 _Six years ago…_

"It's too hot, you're going to burn it," Adeline said reaching for the knob on the stove.

Six swatted her hand away. "I know what I'm doing," he said.

"If he burns down the house, can we stop inviting him over?" Slade asked from across the kitchen where he was sitting with Joe. They were coloring. Slade would draw knights with swords, and Joe would take the brightest, ugliest crayons to color them in.

Six found it all amusing. And weird. But he thought most things other people did were weird. "There is no way I would burn down the house," he said. "There's a fire extinguisher in the cupboard."

"That fills me with confidence," Slade replied.

"I am far more concerned about the omelet," Adeline said. She pulled the pan off the stove and eyed the contents. "I'm eating for two, remember?"

"It's fine." Six snatched the pan back from her. "I am very good at this."

"The only thing you're good at is ego-tripping."

"Okay, kids, quiet down," Slade said as his phone started ringing. He went into the other room to answer it.

Six didn't miss the look in Adeline's eyes as he turned back to making breakfast. She was thinking the same thing he was. Another call from work. It had taken every inch of backbone Adeline had to start telling Amanda "no" when the missions came one right after the other. It had been almost a year since she and Slade agreed to stop working so much. It came in the wake of her father's death—their father. Adeline had looked back and remembered spending more time with the nanny than her parents. She didn't want Joe to grow up that way. Six couldn't exactly say he understood. Their father was a murderer, for one thing. But he didn't have to understand. It was what Adeline wanted, and that was what mattered.

Slade came back into the room after a short conversation. "That was Billy," he said.

"No," Adeline replied, her attention finally pulled away from breakfast.

"Addie—"

"You just got home. They can't expect you to leave again so soon. Besides, we agreed not to work so much."

"What do you want me to do?" Slade said. "I can't just refuse. I'll take some time off after this."

"That's what you said last time, and you were home for three days. Three days, Slade! That's not working less."

"This is important."

" _This_ is important!" Adeline gestured around the room with one hand while placing the other over her stomach.

Joe was still coloring, refusing to look up at the scene happening right next to him. Six watched him, noticing the way he pressed harder as he colored a knight's helmet green. He blinked hard as if trying not to cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," Slade said.

Adeline shook her head. "You always say that. For once, just… stay."

"I can't."

"You won't. I know you, Slade. You're not spineless. You leave because you want to leave."

Slade walked out of the room, and Adeline followed him. Their muffled voices carried from the bedroom down the hall. Joe had scribbled a green blotch all over the knight's head.

The omelet burned.

Six turned off the stove. He never knew what to do with himself when people argued. It seemed like wasted energy to him. Maybe he should have cared, but he couldn't force himself to be invested in something that meant nothing to him. He did care that Adeline was okay. She was his only family, the only person he really cared about. They were only half siblings, but when Adeline found out about Six, she went out of her way to connect with him. She had wanted to expose what their father had done, how he had an affair with Six's mother and had her killed to cover it up. But Six convinced her not to confront him about it or go to the police and settle for moving to Australia. She already knew Slade at that point, and it wasn't much longer that they were married. Six considered that one of the downsides of the plan. Especially now.

Slade and Adeline came back down the hall, still arguing. Slade was carrying an overnight bag over his shoulder as he headed toward the door. Their voices carried from the front room into the kitchen all too clearly.

"This was your idea," Adeline said. "I said I wanted us to spend more time together, and you said we should work less."

" _This_ was _not_ my idea," Slade replied. "I didn't think spending more time with family meant your brother would be here all the time."

"Then you should have said something."

"I did say something. Constantly. You never listened. You feel sorry for him, and that's fine. But _he's_ here more than _I_ am."

"And whose fault is that?"

"It wouldn't make a difference if I never left the house. Every time I turn around, there he is."

Joe suddenly jumped down from his chair, taking his paper with him as he ran into the front room. Six followed, standing in the doorway. Joe held out the badly colored page to Slade.

"Don't go," he said in a small voice.

Slade crouched down and took the paper and hugged Joe. He said something Six couldn't hear before letting his son go and standing upright again. He gave Adeline a look Six didn't understand. Then he turned and walked out the front door.

Adeline sunk down onto the couch, and Joe crawled up in her lap. Her long hair nearly covered him as he clung to her.

Six turned the spatula over in his hand. He should probably finish breakfast.

* * *

 **A/N: I am operating from the assumption that Starling City is somewhere in the Northwest. Some sources place it near Seattle or San Francisco, and I'm going with the one I'm more familiar with. Also, I may not be posting next week due to family events this weekend. But I do have more chapters ready to go if I have the time and sanity.**


	10. That Thing Faulkner Said About the Past

**A/N: My apologies for the delay on this chapter.** **So much stuff happened this month, I don't even remember most of it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this extended look into Slade's past.**

 **Chapter Ten "That Thing Faulkner Said About the Past"**

 _Six years ago…_

Blood dripped down the side of Slade's face, but that wasn't the worst of his problems. The sharp needles of the evergreen trees had whipped at him as he fell through the canopy. His parachute was stuck in the branches above, and he still had a long drop. Billy was nowhere to be seen. This was just the sort of luck he might have expected. Everything seemed to be going wrong lately.

The sound of Billy's laugh carried from below, but Slade couldn't see him. "Wish I had a camera for times like these," he said.

Slade rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Are you going to help me?"

Billy limped into view, favoring his right ankle. "That might be difficult," he said with an apologetic smile. "Think you could just drop, and I'll try to break your fall?"

"You would go and sprain your ankle at a time like this."

"As if it was my idea to get shot out of the sky. Come on. The longer you stay up there, the funnier this story gets."

Slade grumbled to himself as he unhooked the parachute. It still looked like a long fall, but he didn't have a choice. He lowered himself as far as he could by holding onto the harness. Then he let go.

Billy caught him and they both rolled at the last second to avoid the full impact. The wet ground immediately started soaking through Slade's clothes. He got to his feet and helped Billy up.

"We need to get moving," Slade said. "Can you walk?"

"Guess I'll have to," Billy replied. "It's like they knew we were coming."

Slade shook his head. "I don't think a lot of people come this way. But it's going to be difficult to find Yao Fei and stay away from the mercs."

"There's a bit of a trail that way." Billy pointed back the way he had come. "Did you see where the plane went down?"

"It was further north," Slade said. "Which means we need to go the opposite direction. But it might be better to stay off the trails when those soldiers come looking for us."

Billy looked around and grabbed a small, dead branch. He broke off some excess boughs and tested its strength. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Slade. "Lead the way."

Slade consulted the map he had thankfully stored in one of his pockets before the plane got shot down. They had a long way to go. Leaving the path was a good way to get lost, and Billy wasn't exactly in all-terrain shape at the moment, but they would last longer in the forest than they would in the open. Fyers and his men would be looking for survivors.

After a few hours hiking through the dense underbrush, Billy had to stop. The light was fading, and Slade almost thought he could hear something coming in the distance. Billy was out of water, so Slade shared some of his.

"We can't stop long," Slade said.

"Just give me a second," Billy said breathlessly, leaning against a fallen log.

Slade looked back the way they came. He couldn't see any movement through the trees, but that didn't mean they weren't being followed.

Billy was still breathing hard. He must have been worse off than he let on. "You should go on without me," he said. "I'll catch up."

"Don't be ridiculous," Slade replied, pulling Billy up and supporting him. "Let's go."

They moved slowly through the trees. It was a risk, but Slade wasn't going to leave his best friend behind. He didn't know how much time had passed when he realized it was completely dark. He only noticed because of the flashing lights around them. He stopped.

"What's going on?" Billy moaned.

"Shh!" Slade held up his hand.

The lights were getting closer. Soon they would be surrounded. Slade looked for an opening. He found the biggest gap between the lights and started running in that direction, dragging Billy along with him. He saw sky, the horizon, just before the edge of a cliff. Slade stopped, keeping ahold of Billy so he didn't fall. There was nowhere to run now. The lights were all behind him. He could hear the pounding footsteps of the soldiers now. They hadn't been fast enough.

"I'm sorry," Slade said, knowing whatever was coming would be harder on his injured friend.

"It's not your fault," Billy said.

"We will get out of this somehow," Slade promised.

He had to get home. He had to make things right.

###

Slade woke with a pounding in his head. He had given the last of his water to Billy yesterday; he was dehydrated. The bamboo bars of the cage dug into him no matter what position he was in. Add to that, he was sore and tired and wet.

Billy had it worse off. After the soldiers caught up to them, they proceeded to march them several miles back to their camp. Billy could barely walk as it was, and they wouldn't let Slade help him. Eventually, two of the soldiers dragged Billy the rest of the way.

No one had asked them any questions yet. They threw them in the cages and left them for the night. Slade did not make the mistake of thinking they would be left alone for long.

It was light enough to see now, though the sun wasn't exactly "out." Slade convinced himself to get used to being cold and wet indefinitely. The less he thought about how uncomfortable he was, the more time he could spend figuring out how to escape. The plane was gone, but Fyers had to have boats or something. If there was a way off this island, Slade was going to find it. And he was taking Billy with him. Maybe they would be able to find Yao Fei and complete the mission, but if it came to a choice between that and survival, it wasn't much of a choice.

As Slade expected, a few soldiers approached the cages not long after he woke. He could see Billy slumped over in the next cage, his back to Slade. The soldiers unlocked Billy's cage first and dragged him out. Slade watched for any sign that his friend might fight back, even half-heartedly. But there was none. Billy stumbled and landed on his knees. One of the soldiers yanked him up and pushed him forward. He could barely put weight on his injured leg.

In the meantime, the other two soldiers opened Slade's cage. He got out on his own and made a point of showing no signs of the aches and pains that came from falling from the sky and then running through the forest for a few hours.

The soldiers herded them to a tent across the compound. Inside, a man sat at a wooden table looking a little too relaxed for the circumstances. He gestured to the soldiers and they let go of Slade and Billy to step back and guard the entrance.

The man at the table smiled. "Welcome to Lian Yu, gentlemen," he said. "My name is Edward Fyers. Whom do I have the pleasure of entertaining?"

"I'm not feeling particularly entertained, so I would have to say no one," Slade replied.

"Then by all means, sit down." Fyers gestured to a couple of chairs on their side of the table.

Under other circumstances, Slade might have chosen to stand out of pure stubbornness, but Billy could hardly stand as it was, and there was no need to make his injury worse. They sat across from Fyers, and Slade assumed his hospitality would end there.

"That's better," Fyers said. "Now, would you like to tell me who you are, or shall I be forced to find out for myself?"

###

 _Fifteen years ago..._

The sound of fists hitting a vinyl bag echoed through the otherwise empty gym. Normally, Slade would be annoyed at still being in the ARGUS facility after a full day of debriefing from his last joint mission. But it was Adeline. While she often went to the gym for fun, she never went alone so late at night. Something wasn't right.

Slade approached cautiously. Adeline was lost in her own world. The tension in her shoulders and frantic blows to the punching bag displayed a kind of anger Slade had never seen in her.

Before he could say anything, she spun around and took a swing at him. Slade blocked just in time, but instead of backing off, Adeline kept throwing punches, forcing him to take a step back to recover. He held his ground, but only in defense, while she seemed to really be trying to hurt him. She looked right at him, but it was as if she couldn't see him. Her blows became more chaotic, expending more energy than actually doing damage. As she began to falter, Slade took the opportunity to subdue her. He pinned her arms to her sides by wrapping his arms around her torso. She struggled against him for a moment, but not like she would have if this had been a real fight. Her whole body went stiff, and she pressed her forehead against his chest. Her sweaty hair stuck to her face as she gasped for breath.

"What is it?" Slade whispered.

Adeline let out a choked sob. Then with a burst of strength, she broke Slade's hold and pushed him away. She turned to the side and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Lyla said you were down here."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Doesn't it?"

Adeline looked at him with a confused expression. So, she didn't know. Strange, since Slade was painfully obvious.

Adeline nodded toward the bench along the wall. Next to her gym bag was a thick file folder. "Colton gave me that," she said. Then she laughed mirthlessly. "Turns out he's my half-brother."

"Well, that would be upsetting for anyone," Slade said.

She shook her head. "There's more. My father had his mother killed to cover up their affair. My father..." Adeline clawed her fingers through her hair, disheveling her ponytail.

Slade reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She was still stiff, but she didn't pull away this time.

"Are you sure?" Slade asked.

"The stack of evidence is difficult to ignore." She glanced at the folder.

Slade's first instinct was to question any information from Colton Six, but he could see in Adeline's hazy eyes that it was true. He pulled her into a proper hug, and she didn't resist. He wouldn't normally do this (much as he wanted to); it was unprofessional. But Adeline wasn't a coworker right now—she was a friend.

"I'm sorry," Adeline said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Don't be," Slade replied.

Adeline looked up at him with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I did hit you a few times."

"You tried."

She leaned her head back down on his shoulder. For a moment, neither of them said anything, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Then Adeline pulled back, still close enough that her hands rested comfortably on his chest, and his settled on her waist. Something like realization showed in her eyes, and her mouth turned into a faint smile. It was the confirmation Slade had been waiting for: she knew how he felt, and she felt the same way.

The timing was all wrong, but they had so few opportunities. They couldn't waste time.

Adeline's face was inches away. Slade could feel her shallow breath. The space between them seemed to shrink of its own accord, and Slade couldn't tell if it were his heart racing or hers. She looked him straight in the eye, never wavering. Suddenly, he was kissing her, and he didn't know how. Her hands slid over his shoulders and behind his neck, fingers brushing the ends of his hair and sending shivers across his skin. Slade wrapped his arms tighter around her, feeling the tension start to fade from the muscles in her back and shoulders. He tasted salt.

Adeline pulled back, breaking their connection. She rubbed the side of her face. She was smiling, but her eyes were unfocused.

"Not like this," she said.

"Like this?" Slade repeated, hating the way his voice came out rough.

Adeline rested one hand on her waist while gesturing vaguely with the other. "Not when I'm so…"

"Conflicted?"

"I was going to say sweaty, but conflicted works too."

"Well, I don't mind the sweat."

"Of course not." She shook her head, almost laughing. "You're right though. I want to be happy about this. I _am_ happy about this. But…" She looked Slade in the eye again. "My father is still a murderer."

Slade nodded slowly. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. Colton thinks I shouldn't confront him. It's like he doesn't care."

"While I hate to agree with Six on _anything_ , it might be for the best."

"For the best? To let him get away with it?"

"Think about what it would mean for you to go to the police with this. There would be an investigation, a trial. It could take years, and you would have to be there every step of the way. If you think it's worth that, then of course you should confront him and take the evidence to the police. If not…"

"That's the question isn't it? On the one hand, I want justice for Colton and his mother. On the other… I never want to see my father's face again." Adeline walked over to the bench and shoved the file into her bag. "I'm going to take a shower. How long are you here?"

"Roughly four hours. My flight leaves a 9:30."

Adeline looked disappointed. "That soon? I guess you'd have time for dinner, though."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

She shrugged. "You never asked me."

"I was waiting for you to seem interested."

"So punching you a few times did the trick?"

Slade smiled. "I'll meet you outside."

Adeline slung her bag over her shoulder. "Wear something pretty," she said with a wink as she headed off to the locker room.

###

 _Six years ago…_

Slade watched the memories play through his mind as if they had happened to someone else. He couldn't now imagine ever being that happy. He woke on a hard tent floor. He hadn't fallen asleep there. The had passed out or been knocked unconscious—he couldn't remember. The constant pounding in his head from dehydration was all he could feel, all there was. Everything hurt.

The soldiers had dragged him and Billy here each day for Fyers to interrogate. Slade had lost track of how long it had gone on, but it could only have been a couple days since he hadn't had water all that time and was still alive.

The world slowly came back into focus, and Slade saw Fyers' pacing feet in front of his face.

"You are both incredibly resilient," he said.

Slade had no energy to respond. It didn't matter; he would be dead soon. No one would ever know what happened to him. Perhaps they would mourn and then they would move on. Adeline would find someone else. Joe would forget what his father looked like, the sound of his voice. Slade felt the front pocket of his jacket where the crayon scribbled drawing was still tucked away. He couldn't give up now, but he couldn't see a way out either.

"I could use men like you," Fyers went on.

Slade wanted to laugh. They would never join him.

"You would be well compensated in addition to food, water, and medical care," Fyers said. "Whomever you are loyal to cannot possibly be prepared to offer what I am."

When neither Slade nor Billy replied, Fyers gestured to one of the guards standing behind them. The man walked over to Billy and put his foot over Billy's ankle. With a small amount of pressure, the guard elicited an agonized scream.

Slade pushed himself up on shaky arms, struggling into a sitting position.

"It did not have to come to this," Fyers said, his voice cutting through the screams. "Won't you save your friend?"

Slade looked around the tent. The guards had guns. Normally that wouldn't be such a problem, but Slade was weak; he couldn't fight them. He tried to reach for Billy's arm, but the second guard shoved him back. Billy was trying to crawl away, but there was nowhere for him to go.

"Slade…" His voice came out desperate, pleading. He was giving up.

"Shut up," Slade whispered. He couldn't afford to show sympathy right now.

"Is that you name?" Fyers asked, as if that were fascinating information.

Slade said nothing.

Fyers gestured to the guard again. "Kill him."

The guard pointed his rifle at Billy's head. Slade felt as if his heart were in his throat. Billy's eyes widened with fear.

"No, no," he said hoarsely. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know. I'll join you."

Fyers smiled, and Slade felt the knot in his throat drop down into his stomach. This wasn't happening; Billy was just buying time. But it didn't feel like a ruse. Slade could feel the terror emanating from his friend. Billy was in survival mode. He wasn't thinking about the mission, about loyalty.

Fyers leaned down in front of Billy. "Tell me your names, who you are working for, and why you are here," he said.

Billy did.

Slade tried to stop him, but the guards restrained him. He couldn't do anything to save the mission now.

Fyers went over to his desk and picked up a water bottle that had been sitting there every time they were brought here. He handed it to Billy. "Thus concludes the interview," he said.

Billy drank down most of the water before he stopped suddenly and held out the bottle toward Slade. One of the guards kicked his hand, sending the last few precious drops soaking into the canvas floor.

Fyers grabbed the front of Billy's jacket. "You are loyal to me now," he said. "Mr. Wilson is no longer your concern."

Billy glanced over at Slade, but there was no real conflict in his eyes. He knew what his choice would be. He nodded slowly, and Fyers let him go.

"Take our new friend to the medical tent and see to his injuries," Fyers said. "Put the prisoner back in his cell."

"Billy?" Slade said as the guards started dragging him away.

Billy didn't even turn his head.

###

 _Fifteen years ago…_

Six months of phone calls at odd hours and the occasional sappy letter had all been building to this. Slade was nervous as he stared out the plane window at the Gotham City airport below. He didn't know why; he had never liked the idea of a long distance relationship, and it was about as much fun as he expected it to be. Still, the thought of seeing Adeline for the first time since she dropped him off at the airport made his palms sweat and his stomach churn. Being in love was a lot like having the flu in Slade's opinion. Of course, the 24-hour flight with little food or rest couldn't have helped.

All the way through the terminal and to the baggage claim, Slade thought about what he would say when he saw Adeline. Nothing seemed to capture what he was feeling. It was almost as if they hadn't spent the past six months talking about everything they could think of.

To further complicate things, Adeline wasn't alone. Slade saw her from across the baggage claim, facing away from him and talking to a vaguely familiar man close to her age and an older man in a butler's uniform. Slade knew it was her from the long, dark hair and the way she carried herself.

The younger man noticed him, and something in his expression must have caused Adeline to turn and follow his gaze. She broke into a broad smile and ran toward Slade. It turned out he didn't have to say anything at all. Adeline threw her arms around him and kissed him forcefully. For a second, Slade let himself forget they were in public. The tension he remembered from their last meeting was gone. Adeline was happy, and he could feel it radiating from her like heat. The nerves and exhaustion melted away.

Then Slade remembered they were in a busy airport, and he probably shouldn't get too carried away. Adeline seemed to sense that and pulled back, still smiling.

"I thought you'd never get here," she said.

"So, you _did_ miss me?" Slade asked with a smirk.

"As if I didn't tell you every night."

"There is the fourteen hour difference, so it was usually in the morning."

"That really doesn't affect cell reception." Adeline punched his arm. "Come on. I want you to meet someone."

She took his arm, and they walked back toward her friends. The older man was now holding Slade's suitcase. He was actually wearing white gloves and had a driving cap under his arm. The younger man stepped forward with a smile.

"Welcome to Gotham City Mr. Wilson," he said, shaking Slade's hand.

"Slade, this is Bruce Wayne," Adeline said. "We grew up together. And this is Alfred."

The butler nodded in greeting.

"When you said I would be staying with your friend, I didn't think you meant…" Slade trailed off.

"Bruce has been helping me sort out my family situation," Adeline said. "But we can talk about all that over dinner. Alfred is the best cook on the east coast."

"You are too kind, Miss Kane," Alfred said with a hint of pride. "This way to the car."

They walked outside, and the first thing Slade noticed was a section of the curb blocked off for a limousine. Alfred held the door for the other three, and they all climbed in. On the drive, Bruce had a lot of questions.

"How long have you two known each other?" he began, innocently enough.

Slade couldn't imagine Adeline hadn't told her oldest friend, but he dutifully answered all the relationship questions, leaving out the details of exactly how they knew each other, given the classified nature of their work. Bruce seemed more interested in the personal side of things anyway.

Alfred drove them out of the city into a neighborhood full of trees and mansions. As the buildings got thinner and the woods got thicker, they slowed and turned onto a long, winding driveway. They stopped in front of the biggest house Slade had ever seen. It was more of a castle than a house, really.

Bruce led the way up the steps to the door while Alfred followed behind with the luggage. The entered an enormous hall with two curving staircases. The walls were covered in classical art and portraits of family.

"Dinner will be served in thirty minutes," Alfred said. "I will show Mr. Wilson to his room."

Slade wasn't particularly interested in leaving Adeline, but she came along as far as the top of the stairs.

"Meet me on the balcony," she said before kissing his cheek and turning in the opposite direction Alfred was leading him.

Alfred entered one of the many doors along the spacious corridor. Slade counted to make sure he could find his way back later.

"If you require anything, please let me know," Alfred said after he had set the suitcase on the bed.

"Thank you," Slade replied.

"Oh, and the balcony is on the right," Alfred added with a gleam in his eyes as he left the room.

Slade quickly scanned the space he would be staying for the next two weeks. He calculated that his apartment could fit inside this room nearly three times over. Aside from the grandness of it all, there was nothing unusual about the room. The high windows looked down over a manicured lawn bordered by thick trees. This was the sort of place Adeline had grown up, all that luxury and space. Growing up with just his mother in a tiny old house, Slade couldn't imagine living this way all the time. He wondered if that was what Adeline wanted. Her choice of profession seemed to indicate otherwise, but they would have to talk about the future eventually.

With that thought, Slade left the room and headed back the way he came, passing the staircase and keeping to the right as Alfred told him. The balcony was easy enough to find from all the light of the setting sun coming in through the glass doors. Adeline was standing next to the stone railing, enjoying the view. As quiet as he could be, Slade knew Adeline must have heard him coming as he walked across the balcony to her. But she didn't turn around. He stopped behind her and put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him. She leaned back, taking a long breath.

"You see that house?" she said.

Slade followed her gaze to where he could just see the rooftop of another mansion above the trees.

"I grew up there," she said. "My father is there right now."

"You still haven't talked to him?" Slade asked.

Adeline shook her head. "He still calls. I know I'll have to. I just needed to talk to you first."

"About what?"

"There's an ARGUS facility in Sydney. I've looked into a transfer. It's only a few hours from you and a whole world away from him."

Slade took Adeline's arms and turned her around so she was facing him. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She nodded. "I do have to warn you, though, Colton wants to come with me."

"Naturally," Slade deadpanned.

"He joined ARGUS to find me. He may not care about most things—or people—but… he does care about me. I know you don't get along, and I don't expect you to put up with him all the time. Bruce doesn't even like him that much, and Bruce is nice to everyone."

"I noticed."

"He's going to come with me—Bruce, I mean—to talk to my father. They know each other, and it will be easier to get through the conversation with backup."

"What are you going to say?"

"That I know what he did and I never want to see or hear from him again in exchange for my silence."

"I know you want justice for Six, but I think that's a good idea."

Adeline nodded. "That's what Colton says, and even Bruce agrees, and he's a genius, so…"

"Soon you will be able to put all this behind you," Slade said with a smile.

She smiled back. "It will all be worth it when…" She ran her hand along the side of his face.

Slade caught her hand in his and pressed her fingers to his lips. She pulled him closer and kissed him again, deeper than before. Slade thought he would be fine staying in that moment forever. Food and sleep and the rest of the world no longer mattered.

A knock on the glass startled both of them, and they turned to see Bruce standing in the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But Alfred gets more sarcastic than usual if dinner isn't served on time."

"And it takes ten minutes to get anywhere in this house," Adeline said, seeming more annoyed about the inconvenience than she usually would be.

Slade had to smile, knowing it was because of him.

They headed downstairs, and while Adeline had exaggerated, it did take longer than one might expect to reach the dining room. A long table was set for three.

"I told Alfred your brother wouldn't be joining us," Bruce said. "I presume that is still the case."

"He's out of the country. And your house is the one place he doesn't just waltz into," Adeline said as they sat down.

"Must be all the iron fences and guard dogs," Bruce said as if it were unexpected.

"Do you have those just for Six?" Slade asked.

"It's something you might consider when he moves to Australia. A little bit of Colton Six goes a long way. And he eats all my food and drives Alfred crazy."

"I don't think my apartment allows dogs or iron fences."

"No dogs?" Adeline said. "You'll definitely have to move."

"You want a dog?"

"It might be nice. A dog, a few kids, you know." She shrugged as if it weren't a big deal, but Slade knew better. They had talked about it before.

"I'm more of a cat person," Bruce said.

"Cats opposed to kids or cats opposed to dogs?" Slade asked.

"I don't mind any of them. I never really considered kids. It's difficult to find the right person."

"Of course," Adeline said with a mischievous grin. "You have to go to Australia."

###

 _Six years ago..._

It rained hard that day, but Slade barely noticed as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was going to die soon. He didn't know why they didn't just shoot him to save time. They didn't need him anymore.

Across the camp, Billy walked on crutches, now wearing his mask that Fyers had taken away when they were captured. Slade felt a mix of rage and confusion when he looked at his friend. He couldn't understand how Billy could betray everything they worked for. Slade knew the instinct to survive well enough, but he could never compromise the mission or abandon a friend to save his own life. He had thought Billy was the same.

Slade faded from consciousness again, too weak to keep himself awake. He had dreams or hallucinations, memories of his life when he was happy. But he saw them from a distance. He wasn't part of the memories. That was some other guy, young and full of hope. A softer, kinder man.

Slade woke in darkness. The rain had stopped. A guard was standing outside his cell. He pushed a small bundle through the bamboo and walked away. Slade reached for it and unwrapped the plastic covering. Inside was a bottle of water and a protein bar.

So Fyers needed him alive. That couldn't be good.

###

 _Eight years ago..._

Adeline did not want to go to her father's funeral. It was Six who said they should all go and make a family trip out of it. Slade found it unsettling to turn someone's death into an occasion for a vacation. But Bruce offered to have them all stay with him, and as the sole beneficiary of her father's estate, Adeline needed to make a trip to Gotham City to settle his affairs.

Flying across the world with an overgrown child was as enjoyable as it sounds. And then there was the three-year-old. Joe behaved far better than his uncle on the trip, but they arrived without serious incident. Alfred was waiting for them with the car, and a young boy about five or six stood next to him.

"Bruce was definitely taller last time I saw him," Six said.

The boy stepped forward before Alfred could respond. "I'm Dick Grayson," he said, holding out his hand.

Six shook his hand as if he were an adult. "And you thought you'd get an early start in the limo driver business?"

"Alfred says I'm too young to drive."

"Master Dick is living at Wayne Manor," Alfred said. "He is Master Bruce's ward."

"What's that?" Joe asked.

"Means he adopted me," Dick said. "Sorta like he's my dad now."

Joe looked up at Slade. "Did you adopt me?"

Slade smiled. "No, you were mine to begin with."

"My real parents died," Dick explained.

Adeline leaned over and whispered to Slade, "Trust Bruce to adopt a kid without telling anyone."

Alfred gestured to the open car door. "Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts," he said. "That means you too, Master Dick."

On the ride back to the house, Joe and Dick chattered away with occasional interjections from Six who thought he was very funny. When they arrived, Bruce wasn't home from work yet, so Alfred showed them all to their rooms and announced that dinner would be served at exactly 6:30 p.m. Dick invited Joe to play with his train set, and Six disappeared shortly after, leaving Slade and Adeline to themselves for the rest of the afternoon.

In spite of the uncomfortable occasion, Slade found himself enjoying the sense of familiarity surrounding the place. It was the site of many happy memories from his two week visit seven years ago. As the sound of children's voices wafted down the halls, Slade and Adeline made their way out to the second floor balcony.

"Almost makes you want to have another one," she said a she gazed out over the expansive grounds.

"If only we could find the time," Slade replied, resting his arm across her shoulders.

Adeline leaned against him and sighed. "You know, when I was a kid I spent more time with my nanny than either of my parents. At my mother's funeral, everybody was saying all these nice things about her, and I couldn't think of more than two or three good memories in fifteen years. I know your mother loves having Joe when we're gone, but it feels like... like we're only a family part of the time."

Slade had been thinking the same kinds of things lately. He loved his job, and he knew Adeline loved hers too, but they couldn't live two lives. They had to choose what was most important to them.

"We work too much," he said. "That is not an easy problem to resolve."

"It's not like they'd fire us if we didn't."

"No." Slade shook his head. "It is a matter of choosing to limit ourselves."

"Work/life balance, right?"

"Is there such a thing?"

"Unless you want to quit our jobs and live off my father's money for the rest of our lives."

"I do not want to do that."

Adeline smiled. "I thought not."

###

 _Five years ago..._

Slade checked the date on his watch. It had been a year since he left home. Every day he came up with new schemes to escape, but none of them ever succeeded. Fyers didn't question him anymore, instead leaving him alone in his cell. Why they kept him alive all this time was still a mystery.

Too often, Slade filled the empty hours, days, and weeks with thoughts of his family. He wondered if Adeline looked for him when he didn't come home, if she still waited for him, or if she had given up.

He worried about Joe growing up without a father. Slade had always said he wouldn't make his son suffer the way he had after his own father died in Vietnam. He couldn't remember anything about the man except what his mother told him. She was alone now, Slade realized. He couldn't imagine the pain she was going through, believing her son was dead.

Slade didn't think about the baby, the child he never got to meet.

He had to get back somehow. Even if it were impossible, he couldn't allow himself to believe it. That was the only thing keeping him sane, reminding him of who he was.

Movement in the trees at the edge of camp distracted Slade from his thoughts. There was no wind. It could have been an animal, but they usually stayed away from people. A break in the pattern of leaves showed green and black. A man's face appeared between the trees. He looked straight at Slade, and a sense of familiarity struck Slade as he recalled all those mission briefs. Yao Fei Gulong. The man he came to rescue.

Slade wanted to yell at him to get out of there, but that would have alerted the guards to his presence. Yao Fei put his hand to his mouth and then raised a weathered bow with an arrow on the string. Slade followed his line of sight to a group of guards across the camp. This would not end well.

Too quick to see, Yao Fei fired off three arrows, taking down the guards, and then he was gone. The camp erupted into chaos, and Slade realized this was his chance. He found the spot in the corner of his cage that he had been slowly wearing down in anticipation of another escape attempt. He started kicking as hard as he could, and an opening began to form.

More arrows flew from a different spot in the woods. Yao Fei was distracting the soldiers to give Slade a chance to escape.

The wall of the cage finally came free, and Slade crawled through the opening. A couple of guards spotted him and moved to intercept, but suddenly stopped in their tracks and fell forward with arrows sticking out of them. Slade grabbed one of their guns and ran for the trees. He was weak from months of inactivity and little food, but the adrenaline made up for that in the moment. He reached cover just in time to see Yao Fei take down another guard. He turned and motioned for Slade to go.

"I found your plane," he said. "I will lead them away."

There wasn't time to question why he was helping. Slade turned in the opposite direction and ran. He didn't know exactly how far the plane was from the camp, but it was close to the other side of the island if he remembered correctly. Billy hadn't seen it go down, which meant it was still a safe place to hide.

The shouts of soldiers faded in the distance the farther Slade ran. After a while, he stopped worrying that he was being followed. A few hours later, the adrenaline wore off, and Slade trudged through the woods, aching with every step and wishing he had some water.

It got dark quickly, and Slade had to stop because he didn't have a flashlight. He found a tree with low branches and climbed up for the night. He didn't think anyone would come for him, but he couldn't be sure. He kept watch until dawn. He wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

As soon as it was light enough to see the way ahead of him, Slade set off again. He went slower now, conserving as much energy as he could. The sun was high overhead when he finally reached the plane. A year's worth of moss and vines grew over the fuselage. A large crack in one side made for a decent door.

Inside, a jumble of broken seats, crates of supplies, and debris gave the impression a tornado had passed through the plane. Slade found a crate of emergency food and water and felt a surge of excitement that the contents were intact. After eating and drinking, he set about cleaning up the space and making it livable.

Late in the day, Slade stopped and sat down on a pile of crates. He took off his jacket, feeling warm for the first time since he came here. He looked down at his arms and barely recognized himself. He would have to work on building up his strength again. Escaping Fyers' camp was only the beginning. He still had to get off this island.

But at the moment, he was exhausted, so Slade found some blankets and settled in for the night. He slept soundly for the first time since he came here.

Over the next few days, Slade finished cleaning out the fuselage, scouted the area for fresh water, and set traps for fresh meat. He could live on the bottled water and MREs for a while, but they would run out eventually.

On the third morning, Yao Fei showed up, bleeding from some minor wounds and looking exhausted.

"You are alive" was the first thing he said.

"Thanks to you," Slade replied. "No one followed you?"

Yao Fei shook his head as he sat heavily on one of the crates. "We must find a way off this island before Fyers discovers our location."

"No argument there. Did you have a plan?"


	11. That Which We Call a Rose and Other

Chapter Eleven "That Which We Call a Rose and Other Cliches"

 _Present day…_

The blood spots on the carpet blurred together. Sunlight streamed through the windows, the only indication of how long Slade had been sitting there. Six had left hours ago, shortly after Amanda made her appearance. Slade had sat in the chair by the window for hours, thinking over the last thing Six said: "she told me not to."

Adeline didn't want Slade to know where she was. She knew he was alive, and it didn't matter.

Slade found himself taking out his phone and dialing a familiar number before he realized what he was doing. He didn't know why he hadn't called before.

"Hello?" came the answer on the first ring.

"Bruce?"

"Slade? Is that you?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner."

"I thought that looked like you on the news. Are you still in Starling City?"

"No, but I'm heading back." Slade hadn't completely decided to go back until that moment. It seemed like the best thing to do.

"I'll be there in a few days, as soon as I can get away."

"You don't have to. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. What's going on?"

"You're the genius, Bruce."

"Adeline? I'm sure she's safe."

"Six knows where she is. He said she did not want me to know."

Bruce was silent for a moment. "Is that all he said?"

"There may have been something about her not wanting to see me because of how I left."

"And you believed him? Slade, you know how manipulative he is. After you disappeared, Adeline told me what happened. She was upset, but she still wanted you to come home. Wherever she is, I'm sure she wishes you were there."

"Then why would she tell Six not to tell me?"

"I don't know… maybe she's trying to protect you from something."

Slade had to laugh, though it came out harsh and empty. "If you knew me half as well as you seem to think you do, you would realize how ridiculous that sounds."

"I'm not saying it makes sense. It must have something to do with the secret sort of work you two were doing before."

"I know it does."

"Look, I'll be in Starling City in a few days, and we can talk about this in person. Just don't put too much stock in anything Six tells you. There's always something he leaves out."

"Right." Slade wasn't particularly convinced. "I'll see you soon."

##=======

Laurel woke early, thinking she would try to get some work done on the latest Canary case before heading to her actual job. But when she walked into the kitchen to find some breakfast, she was greeted with the gruesome sight of Six sitting on the counter by the sink, pulling a bullet from his shoulder with a pair of small pliers.

"What the hell happened?" Laurel said, a little too loudly.

Six looked up calmly. "I got shot," he said.

"Why didn't you go to the hospital? Why didn't you wake me?" Laurel rushed over to get a look at his wound.

Six finished pulling the bullet out and dropped it in the sink. "It's really nothing."

"Nothing? You got shot!"

"I've been shot before. Remember what I said about being hard to kill?" Six reached for the antiseptic next to the sink.

"This isn't funny."

"No, I'm serious. I mentioned the experiments, didn't I?" He poured the antiseptic over his wound and then dabbed at it with a clean paper towel.

"I thought you were being sarcastic because you didn't want to tell me why your name is Six."

"People always think that. I really was part of an experiment—test subject number six. I really am stronger and harder to kill than most people. You'd have to, I don't know, blow me up or something."

Laurel crossed her arms. "Are there any side effects?"

"You mean like my unique personality?" He grinned. "No. You can credit that to my childhood. Or genetics. I'm not sure. What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You scare me sometimes, you know? I don't have to know about everything you do, but I want to know you're okay."

Six's smile never wavered. "I'm okay."

"I want to believe you, but you understand why this is hard to believe?"

"Secret government experiments and superhumans? Yeah, I get how that could seem fake."

"It was ARGUS? They made you… superhuman?"

"One of their mad scientists, yes. Having super strong agents can be a great advantage."

Laurel's eyes widened. "There are more?"

"None living that I know of."

"What happened to them?"

"Didn't survive the procedure. Which is probably why they haven't tried to do it again."

"Did ARGUS do this to you?" Laurel gestured at Six's wound.

"No, that was just a misunderstanding. Not that Waller wouldn't kill me if she got the chance. She just can't get over me."

"'Get over you'?" Laurel repeated.

"Did I never mention that?"

Laurel narrowed her gaze at him. "Six."

"It was before I met you. She and I were…"

"What? Was she your girlfriend?"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Of course you wouldn't. Was she whatever it is you think I am?"

"I mean, sort of. But then she tried to kill me because I was her only weakness or whatever. I don't see you doing that."

"Can you see why it's a little upsetting that you neglected to tell me that your former boss was also your girlfriend, _and_ she wants to kill you, _and_ she runs the organization that we have been fighting against this whole time?"

Six hesitated for a moment. "Yes?"

"Is that a question?"

"Look, it was a long time ago. I don't still have feelings for her or anything. Not that I have feelings in the usual sense of the word, but—"

"That's not what bothers me. It seems like this would have been pertinent information when we first started working together. Even before… this." Laurel gestured between them to indicate their non-professional relationship.

"I was under the impression that talking about former… you know… was off limits when you like someone."

"We weren't even dating!"

"No, but I was hoping you would let me make you dinner once in a while."

Laurel tilted her head to one side. "That's sweet, but it doesn't get you off the hook for not telling me sooner."

"Would bacon wrapped meatloaf for dinner help?"

Laurel bit her tongue to keep from smiling. "Maybe," she said.

Six reached out his clean hand and squeezed Laurel's shoulder. "You know I don't want to be with anyone but you, right?"

Laurel nodded. "If I thought otherwise, I never would have let you make me dinner the first time."

He smiled and went back to treating his wound, and Laurel decided to let him without interference. She got out some cereal and a bowl, but before she could fix her breakfast, Deathstroke came prancing into the room, meowing to be fed.

"What is that?" Six asked, staring at the cat.

"Slade's cat," Laurel said, picking him up and scratching his ears.

"Obviously. Why is it here?"

Laurel held the cat against her shoulder with one hand while she put some food in his bowl with the other. "Slade was going out of town for a few days and needed someone to watch him."

Deathstroke jumped out of Laurel's grip and began chomping down on his breakfast.

Six got very quiet after that as he put his shirt back on, bloody hole and all, and started cleaning up his mess.

"Don't tell me you don't like cats," Laurel said.

"They're fine."

"You can't stand that something is cuter than you, can you?"

Six frowned. "It's just wrong."

Laurel laughed and kissed him. "You'll just have to get over it," she said with a smile as she turned back to prepare her cereal.

##=======

Thea tapped her pencil on her notebook as he English teacher droned on about the importance of _Romeo and Juliet_ 's influence on modern romance. The only thing Thea had written in her notes was " _Romeo and Juliet_ not a romance, a tragedy." Her teacher was going to hate her essay.

Thea glanced out the window. Just another half hour until she could leave this place. Oliver had promised to come pick her up since she wasn't working with Laurel today. Thea had begun to look forward to her afternoons with her brother the way she used to look forward to working with Laurel and Six. They hadn't called recently. Thea had the sinking feeling they wouldn't.

"…what do you think, Miss Queen?"

Thea looked up at her teacher with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?"

"I was just discussing how themes from _Romeo and Juliet_ show up in modern young adult literature," the middle aged woman said smugly.

Thea took a deep breath. "While I agree that modern YA frequently references _Romeo and Juliet_ , I don't think it's accurate to say the stories have the same themes. Most YA seems to argue that teenage romance is an ideal, something so powerful and true that it transcends all other relationships and responsibilities, but Shakespeare was writing a cautionary tale on the perils of young love and how suppressing a teen crush can legitimize it and lead to suicide."

Her teacher frowned—no, she glared at Thea. "Who are you quoting from?"

"My essay."

"Your essay is supposed to be about how modern authors are influenced by Shakespeare's work."

"Influenced, but not dictated. We take what we want to believe Shakespeare meant, whether that's what he really said or not."

"See me after class, Miss Queen."

Thea groaned and sunk into her seat as the teacher launched back into her spiel.

Forty-five minutes later, Thea walked outside to find Oliver waiting by the curb with his motorcycle.

"What took you so long?" he asked with a smile.

"Differences of opinion over the authorial intent of William Shakespeare."

"And here I thought you got in trouble for cutting class."

"I only do that when it's absolutely necessary. What is this?"

"What?"

"This." She gestured toward his mode of transportation. "We're supposed to go shopping, remember?"

Oliver reached behind him and held out a second helmet.

"And you didn't think for a moment that I might be a girl who cares about her hair?"

Oliver grinned wider, still offering the helmet.

Thea sighed and took it. "If we die, I'm gonna kill you."

"Come on, Speedy," Oliver said, getting on the bike. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Thea put on her helmet. "It's on vacation," she said, climbing on behind him.

"I promise I won't crash."

With that, Oliver sped out of the school parking lot, eliciting stares from the few students who were still hanging around. On the road, they gathered speed, and Thea felt her heart pound faster. She had missed this sort of thing, the thrill of chasing bad guys and avoiding the cops. Of course, a shopping trip with Oliver hardly compared, but for a moment, she could imagine she was somewhere else. Then it dawned on her that she didn't need to imagine herself anywhere but here. Oliver was back, really back. She didn't want to be anywhere else.

They drove downtown to where all the good shops were. Thea loved the mall as much as anybody, but today she was in the mood for tiny vintage stores and antique bookstores. The motorcycle definitely made parking easier, and Thea wondered if that had been Oliver's intention, or if he just wanted an excuse to get away from Mr. Diggle.

They shopped for a while, and Thea found a purse she loved. She made Oliver try on all kinds of ridiculous hats and took pictures on her phone when he wasn't looking. Blackmail material for later. When Thea felt that Oliver was sufficiently worn out, she suggested they stop for dinner and then head home.

It was still light out, so they found a cafe with outdoor seating. As soon as they ordered their food, Thea asked the question she'd been holding in for weeks.

"So what's her name?"

"What?" Oliver replied, looking very much like a cornered animal.

"You know, whoever it is you sneak off to see all the time."

Oliver shook his head. "I'd much rather hear about your, what was it? Authorial something or other?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

"I'm really not seeing anyone, Thea. That's just what I tell Mom to get her to leave me alone."

"Then what are you doing?"

Oliver shrugged. "Sometimes I hang out with Tommy. Sometimes I just do stuff by myself. I'm used to being alone, so it's weird to be surrounded by people."

"What about Slade?"

"He's one person, and I can't tell you how many times he spent the day hunting just to get away from me or pretended to be asleep so I wouldn't talk to him."

Thea laughed. "I don't believe that."

"Ask him. I was incredibly annoying if you believe his account."

"He's probably just saying that. I think he's nice. But kind of sad."

"What do you mean?"

"You know him better than I do. Maybe it has something to do with losing his family. He doesn't really talk about them."

"No," Oliver agreed. "He only mentioned them two or three times to me in all the time we were on the island."

"It kind of seems like he wants to help everyone else but…"

"But he avoids his own problems? Yeah."

"I wish there was something we could do."

Oliver nodded. "Me too."

Through the rest of dinner, they talked about school and Oliver's work on the nightclub. It was dark by the time they left, and the streets were empty. They were about a block away from where they had parked when someone bumped into Thea from behind. The strap of her purse dug into her arm as it pulled away from her body. The thief took off running, and Thea took off after him. He was only a little taller than she was, making it easier for her to hit him between the shoulder blades and knock him to the ground. He sprawled out on his stomach, Thea's purse sliding out of his grasp across the sidewalk. As he got to his feet, Thea slammed into him, shoving him against the nearest building.

"Oliver, call the police," she said.

"Whoa, whoa," the thief said. "Look, you got your purse back, just let me go."

Looking into his eyes, Thea saw that he was close to her age and not bad looking for a thief. "Why should I do that?" she asked.

"Please, I just needed the money for my mom. She's been sick, and I lost my job. Please, I can't go to jail."

"Thea?" Oliver said from behind her.

She turned, still holding the thief by the sweatshirt collar. Oliver started at her with wide eyes.

"Let him go."

Thea turned back to her assailant. "You're lucky I didn't break anything," she said, shoving him one more time before letting go and picking up her purse. "Your mother would be ashamed of you."

The boy turned to leave, but Oliver called after him. "Hey, kid, you need a job?"

Thea stared in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

The thief also stared. "You know, I was lying about my mom, right? She's been dead for years."

Oliver nodded. "I know. But you still need a job."

"I don't think mugging looks very good on a resume," Thea argued.

"You should listen to your girlfriend."

"She's my sister, and I rarely listen to anyone. Do you want to work for me or not?"

"Yeah, okay, what's the job?"

Oliver smiled. "You'll start as a busboy. If you don't steal anything, you might get promoted. So, you got a name?"

"Roy Harper."

Oliver held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Roy Harper. I'm Oliver Queen."

##=======

Slade barely managed a few hours of sleep after arriving home. He was awakened by nightmares he couldn't remember a few minutes later. It was just as well he didn't sleep during the day no matter how tired he was. He thought of going to pick up Deathstroke, but he wanted to wait until Laurel was off work to avoid having to talk to Six, should he happen to be there. Slade didn't know how he was going to manage being in the same room as the other man, let alone making conversation.

The thought of talking to anyone at the moment made him want to kill something. Violence had been an unhealthy outlet for Slade in the past. On an island full of enemies, it was justifiable. Not so much in civilized society. In the end, he settled for cleaning his guns for the rest of the afternoon. It was a familiar task, but intricate enough to keep his mind mostly occupied. He couldn't spend too much time thinking right now. He'd go mad if he did.

Unfortunately, he finished that chore before the end of work hours. So he went into the kitchen to see about making something to take to Laurel to thank her for watching the cat. It wasn't as if she didn't have plenty of food with Six around, but it would seem rude to show up with nothing. Not that Slade cared much about seeming rude, especially now, but it gave him something to do. He settled for a pan of cinnamon rolls with lots of cinnamon and no raisins because some people didn't like raisins.

When they were finished, he texted Laurel to see if it were safe to come over. She responded quickly that she was home, so Slade put the cinnamon rolls in a plastic container and headed out. Everything about what he was doing felt strange. Nothing seemed to make any sort of sense, but he kept going through the motions in hopes that he would find his way.

Laurel was all smiles when she answered the door, holding Deathstroke cuddled against her shoulder.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, looking at the container in Slade's hand.

"It's probably not proper cat-sitting compensation," he said, holding it out to her.

"If it's edible, I don't care." She took it and handed the cat to Slade, suddenly enamored with the contents.

Deathstroke pawed at Slade's jacket and chirped irritably.

"I think he missed you," Laurel said. "Come on in. How was your trip?" She spoke as she walked into the kitchen to store the cinnamon rolls safely.

Slade took a quick glance around to see that Six wasn't in the room. "It was… eventful," he said.

Laurel started packing up the cat's food and toys. "Man of mystery," she said. "Well, we had fun. Six can't stand being in the same room as something cuter than him, which I think is great because he's so difficult to tease."

Slade forced a smile and said nothing.

"You okay?" Laurel asked, handing him the bag full Deathstroke's things.

"Fine," Slade replied, taking it. "Thank you for watching him."

By this time, Deathstroke had settled down and started purring.

"Sure you wouldn't like to stay for dinner? Six always makes tons of food."

"No, thank you. I should get home."

"Okay. Let me know if Deathstroke ever needs supervision again."

Slade managed a half real smile. "I will."

##=======

Rain splattered the awning over the sidewalk, creating a constant chatter like machine gun fire. The passenger loading and unloading zone was full of people rushing in and out, trying not to get caught in the downpour. It had been a few years since Bruce Wayne had last visited Starling City, but he hadn't forgotten the frequent gray skies.

An expensive black sedan with mud on the fenders pulled up to the curb in front of him. The driver got out, and though Bruce had seen pictures and surveillance footage, he was shocked by how much his friend had changed over the years. It wasn't the eye-patch or the bit of gray hair at his temples; it was the look in his eye that told Bruce he was looking at a drastically changed Slade Wilson.

"You carry your own bags now?" Slade joked, but his smile didn't reach the fine lines around his unobstructed eye.

"Alfred hates flying," Bruce replied, choosing not to challenge the false humor at the moment.

Slade pulled Bruce into an unexpected hug. "It's good to see you," Slade said with a weight of sincerity that surprised Bruce.

"You too."

Slade turned around and walked to the back of the car, deliberately facing away from Bruce for a moment. "Let's get out of here before the sky falls on us," he said.

The words sounded just like something the old Slade would have said, but they lacked his accustomed good humor. Bruce knew the magnitude of changed circumstances since Slade crash landed on that island, but he hadn't been prepared for how drastic the change would be in Slade himself.

They drove in silence until they got away from the airport traffic. Even then, Slade made banal conversation about jet lag and what was for dinner. It all served to solidify the doubts Bruce harbored about keeping Adeline's secret. He wouldn't betray her, but seeing the effects of his deception he almost wanted to.

Slade stopped at a high rise apartment building. Not the sort of place Bruce ever imagined him living. They were silent again as they took the elevator up several stories and reached a gray hallway with black doors and silver numbers. They went inside one of these apartments, and Bruce was instantly diverted from his prior train of thought by the appearance of a black and orange kitten.

"Hello there," he said, reaching down to scratch its ears. "Are we in the right place?"

"A gift from Oliver Queen's sister," Slade said, nodding toward the cat. "He's all right."

The kitten rubbed his face against Bruce's hand and purred. "Obviously a good judge of character," Bruce said, standing upright again as the cat continued to rub against his shoes. "I thought you wanted a dog?"

Slade was silent for a moment. "Adeline wanted a dog," he said before turning and walking into the kitchen.

"Does he have a name?" Bruce asked, following with the cat close behind.

"Deathstroke," Slade said.

Bruce laughed. "That's fantastic."

Slade tried to smile and failed miserably. This was beginning to look like more than a quick visit.

Bruce found the guest room and unpacked while Slade finished dinner. In those few moments to himself, Bruce considered how much he could say to Slade, how much he could reassure him without giving away his involvement in Adeline's disappearance. While he was prone to act on emotion rather than logic, Slade was a perceptive man. Bruce couldn't let his guard down. He hoped some day Slade would forgive him for this.

When he returned to the dining room, Bruce found the table set.

"A bit less formal than you're used to," Slade said, gesturing to a chair as he sat down on the other side.

Bruce sat as well. "It's a refreshing change," he said. "I'm glad you called me."

"I'm sorry if I pulled you away from work. It's not as if there's anything you can do."

"Maybe not, but considering the only familiar face you've seen recently was Colton Six, I see it as a duty to human decency. And I did think you were dead for a while there."

Slade shook his head. "I shouldn't have gone."

"You couldn't know what would happen."

"I lost my whole family. My mother died alone, and my wife and…"

"They miss you. Wherever they are, I'm sure of that."

Slade shook his head again. "Maybe Six was right."

"He wasn't. He's never been angry at anyone in his life except maybe you. It clouds his judgment and makes him say things he knows will hurt you. You can't trust that."

There was a long pause, and Slade seemed to be thinking very hard about something. "I have to ask you something," he said. "I'm not sure I want an answer, but I have to ask."

"What is it?" Bruce replied, feeling a nervous void in his stomach.

"Something Six said about… about the baby."

Relief flooded through Bruce's mind. "Rose?"

Slade was stunned for a moment at the name. "Rose?" he repeated. It was Adeline's middle name, her mother's name. "Is she…?"

Bruce reached into his breast pocket for the pictures he brought. He handed them to Slade without a word. The first one was of Adeline holding Rose as a baby, less than a year after Slade went missing.

Slade put his hand over his mouth as he stared at the image and ran his thumb across the edge of the photo. "When was this?" he asked, his voice muffled and wavering.

"A little over five years ago," Bruce replied. "The others are from after your mother's funeral, about a year later."

Slade flipped to the next photo that showed Joe and Dick playing with LEGOs while Rose sat in the middle of the pile of bricks, chewing on one of them.

"Adeline refused to have a funeral for you," Bruce said. "She always believed you were still alive. She always waited for you."

Slade choked, his eye turning red and glassy.

Bruce felt a twisting sensation in his chest. He was relieved when Slade stood and left the room. He had to remind himself that he was keeping Adeline and the children's whereabouts a secret for the good of all of them, including Slade.


	12. Brothers, Sisters, & Unwanted Relations

**Chapter Twelve "Brothers, Sisters, & Unwanted Relations"**

The click of heels against the smooth tile floor was strangely satisfying as Oliver watched Felicity cross the room with her tablet in one arm.

"That should fix your problem," she said. "Someone set the router up all wonky. Is 'wonky' a real word?"

Oliver smiled. "I don't know, but I appreciate you coming down here," he said.

"Oh, it's no problem. Kinda nice to go somewhere besides the office. What are you doing here, by the way?" She gestured around the half finished bar area with on finger.

"It's going to be a nightclub. Hopefully."

"And you thought getting high-speed Internet was a priority above… walls?" She raised her eyebrows.

Oliver couldn't help his smile getting wider. "I'm down here a lot, so it's nice to have. You should come when we have our grand opening. Drinks on me."

Felicity chuckled, mostly to herself. "Yeah, that would be something. Me in a nightclub." She shook her head as if the image were too ridiculous.

"It doesn't seem that strange to me. I mean, you're here now."

"Fixing the Wi-Fi. I fix the Wi-Fi, and I go home and watch Netflix. And that's too much information, isn't it?"

Oliver shook his head. "It's fine. Thanks again for doing this."

"Sure. Um—actually I wanted to ask you something if it's not too weird."

"What did you want to ask me?"

"Well, it's about your friend. Slade? Is he… is he okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just—last time I talked to him, I was a little worried, and—you know, it's stupid. I'm sure he's fine."

Oliver got a serious look in his eyes and he put his hand on Felicity's shoulder. "What were you worried about?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you what he was doing. I promised. But you know he left town, right?"

"Yeah?"

"He said he'd let me know how it turned out, and I haven't heard from him."

Oliver nodded slowly. "I haven't heard from him either. I'll go by later and see if he's home. I'll text you when I know something."

"I'm sorry I'm being so…"

"It's fine, Felicity. It's nice you care enough to check. Considering this is Slade Wilson we're talking about, he could have got himself into trouble without me around."

"I thought it was the opposite. I mean, that's the impression he gives."

"It goes both ways."

"Oh. Right." Felicity turned her head to the side to see that Oliver's hand was still on her shoulder.

He dropped it, but not so quickly that it became awkward. "I hope you take me up on that drink," he said. "Couldn't hurt to have a little fun once in a while."

Felicity smiled nervously. "Well… maybe I will," she said and turned to leave.

Oliver watched her go. He couldn't put his finger on just what it was about her that made him want to have her around more. He had told Slade she was funny, and that much was true. She brought some much needed levity to his life. But there was more, and he just couldn't figure out what it was.

###

Felicity wiped her palms on her skirt as she sat in her car outside the old factory. What had just happened? There was no way Oliver Queen was flirting with her. No, that was impossible. He was just being nice. Friendly. He wanted to be friends. What a notion. She could do friends. She _needed_ friends. He didn't _like_ her. No. No way.

"Get a hold of yourself, Felicity," she said to herself. Possibly out loud. She wasn't sure.

She started her car and drove away. Usually, she would be spending Saturday morning in her pajamas, eating cereal, and watching reruns. When Oliver called, though, she jumped at the request. It was a simple enough task anyway, and it wasn't as if he knew anyone else who could fix his Wi-Fi on a weekend.

Actually, he probably could have gotten anyone he wanted to do his bidding. And he asked her.

This was ridiculous. Oliver Queen was the kind of guy who had girls lined up around the block just to be seen with him. She didn't need that kind of nonsense in her life. She liked her quiet existence. Except for the no friends or social life part.

Wasn't there some kind of middle ground? A place where you hung out with friends after work and went to movies and threw each other birthday parties? No?

Felicity sighed as she pulled up to a red light. Pathetic. Her life was pathetic. She needed to do something about that.

Being friends with Oliver wouldn't be so bad, would it? He seemed nice every time she saw him. He was obviously keeping some kind of secrets, but it was like he wanted her to see through the lies, like he was waiting for her to see him for who he really was.

"Don't get romantic," she told herself. "Oliver Queen isn't waiting around for you to fix him."

###

The sound of soft voices drew Slade out of the best sleep he'd had in a week. But unless Deathstroke had learned to talk overnight, there shouldn't be voices. Slade got up and dressed quickly before walking out into the living room. Bruce was sitting on the couch with the cat in his lap while Oliver sat across from him in one of the chairs.

The latter stood upon Slade's entrance and flashed a fake smile. "I see you've traded up your billionaire playboys," he said.

Slade refused to acknowledge the implicit frustration in Oliver's words. "Bruce actually has a job," he said instead. "And I've known him a long time."

"Clearly."

"Did you need something?"

Oliver got that wide-eyed, clenched jaw look where he really wanted to yell at someone but wouldn't. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?"

"I wasn't aware I needed to."

Oliver's fingers twitched. "How long have you been back?"

"Three days."

"Three days? And?"

"And what? When did you become my mother?"

Oliver shook his head, not saying whatever it was he wanted to say. "Felicity was worried."

Slade knew Oliver was still avoiding something, but he couldn't help feeling a little guilty. He had told Felicity he would let her know he was okay. He wasn't okay, but she didn't need to know that. He should have called her. But that wasn't what was bothering Oliver. Not really.

"I'll call her later," Slade said.

Oliver nodded, but he didn't seem satisfied. He swallowed hard and finally asked, "Did you find them?"

"No."

Oliver sighed like he was disappointed. "I'm sorry."

Slade shook his head. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"Is that really what you think? After everything we've been through—"

"This isn't the island, kid."

"No, but you're still stuck there." Oliver took a step closer, his volume increasing slightly. "You want to pretend you can keep everything to yourself because it's about survival, but it isn't anymore. We did what we had to do there. We became something else, but this is the real world, and you can't avoid your past anymore."

"I am not discussing this with you."

"With me?" Oliver halted and glanced back at the couch where Bruce was still sitting. Then he turned back to Slade. "Is this what you do, then? Use people until you don't need them anymore? Do you really care about anybody?"

Oliver didn't see the blow coming. Slade himself didn't fully decide to strike until he felt his fist make contact with Oliver's jaw.

Before Slade could process what he'd done, Bruce was between them, pushing Slade back with surprising strength. In all the commotion, Deathstroke dove under one of the chairs.

"I'm sure we can settle this like civilized people," Bruce said in a firm voice that left no room for argument.

Slade remembered his words to Six when he saw him for the first time in Starling City. _We're not civilized people._ But he wasn't going to say that to Bruce. He wouldn't understand.

"It's fine," Oliver said, brushing off his jacket, even though the floor was perfectly clean. He wiped a trickle of blood from his chin. "I'm leaving now."

Bruce looked like he wanted to argue, but Slade wasn't about to stop Oliver. He hadn't wanted him to come in the first place. He didn't understand either.

As the door closed, Bruce gave Slade an expectant look. "You know, you really should be more hospitable to your friends."

###

Oliver stood on the sidewalk outside the apartment building, staring across the street but seeing nothing. The sun had broken through the clouds and seemed harsh and glaring. Oliver flexed his sore jaw, still tasting blood. Bruce appeared at his side. How he moved so quietly was a mystery.

"He's going to need you," Bruce said.

"I think it's pretty clear he doesn't," Oliver replied.

"You may have noticed that Slade doesn't really deal with his problems until they get in his face like you just did. He's confused. He's hurt. He won't say it, but he is. And when he's hurt, he reacts like a wounded animal. He sees everything as a threat. Even his friends."

"Not you. He's fine with you."

"He associates me with Adeline. I'm safe. But I won't be around all the time. Just don't give up."

Oliver turned to face Bruce. "I wasn't planning on it."

Bruce nodded, more to himself as he seemed lost in thought. "You're a good friend, Oliver. I knew that before I met you. Slade doesn't think he needs anyone looking after him. But he wears his emotions like an open wound."

"That's… graphic."

"Is it inaccurate?"

Oliver thought about all the times he saw Slade angry or scared or sad. Even happy. "No," he said. "You're right. I don't know if he knows how transparent he is."

"An inkling, perhaps. But he doesn't know himself as well as he thinks he does. He doesn't see what you and I see. What Adeline sees."

"Adeline? He barely talks about her."

"He misses her. I'm sure she misses him too. When she brought him to see me the first time, I knew it was the real thing. She'd never had someone in her life who cared more about her than anything else. Not her parents, not her brother, not me. In spite of a few mistakes, Slade and Adeline never stopped loving each other. She's still waiting for him somewhere. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. Six got to him first."

Oliver stared at Bruce for a second, certain he misheard. "Six?"

"Adeline's brother."

"Colton Six is Adeline's brother?"

"Well, half-brother, really."

"Why wouldn't Slade say anything?"

"Would you? I avoid admitting my own acquaintance with the man unless absolutely necessary."

No, Oliver realized he wouldn't admit to knowing Six because he hadn't. Considering how little Slade talked about his family, it wasn't surprising he left out that detail. But this meant that Slade knew Six's connection to ARGUS. Perhaps the two of them could do something about the situation if they were ever on speaking terms again.

"You must really care about them," Oliver said, considering the amount of trouble Bruce was going through for Slade.

"So do you," Bruce replied. "We do what we can for our friends, Oliver. I know I can trust you to take care of Slade when I leave."

"If he lets me."

"Some persuasion may be required."

Oliver sighed. "I'll let you know If I live through it."

###

The clatter of computer keys might have been a calming sound, but Thea merely found it annoying. Everything was annoying today. The vintage purse sitting on the desk in front of her only served to remind her of last night's events and distract her from the essay she was supposed to be writing.

What did it matter anyway? She wasn't going to get a good grade on her actual opinions, much as her teacher protested. She protested too much. It meant she was lying.

Oliver was lying too, but Thea wasn't sure why. He still kept to himself when he wasn't with her. He never joined the family for dinner any more, and Tommy said they hadn't been hanging out more than once a week.

So where was he going all alone? And why would he hire a purse-snatcher to work at his club?

Thea groaned and leaned forward on the desk, her forehead nearly hitting the keyboard. She didn't know why she decided to work in the computer lab today. She just didn't like going home after school anymore. She used to do her homework at Laurel's place a lot.

Thea signed off the school computer and grabbed her things before leaving the building. She stood outside, holding her phone and staring at the screen as the wind picked up around her. She shouldn't call him. Slade never asked to deal with her problems. He had no reason to help her. But something that had been missing for the past five years suddenly seemed alive again when she talked to him. It was stupid. Slade was nothing like her father, and she had no reason to think of him that way. Except maybe the way he ate ice cream with her at midnight and gave her advice about Oliver. That was something her father would have done.

Thea stopped thinking about it and hit the call button on the screen.

It took a few rings before Slade answered. "Hello?" He sounded off somehow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," Thea said. "Oliver is just being… Oliver."

"What else is new?"

"You too, huh?"

"Unfortunately." There was a long, unnatural pause. "Thea, I think you should call Laurel."

"What? Why?"

"She's your best friend, and I have not had the best day myself."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't call you about this stuff."

"Yes, you should. I really don't mind. But I think you called me for my advice, and my advice is: call Laurel. She's the one who can help you right now. I'm sorry I can't."

Thea wanted to ask what happened, but she couldn't pry right now. She knew Slade was still struggling with the loss of his family. Maybe it was just a bad day. Thea knew how that was.

"I hope it gets better," she said. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you. Now call Laurel."

The line disconnected, ending the conversation.

Thea stared at her phone again, but she couldn't bring herself to call Laurel. They had talked plenty of times in the past few weeks, but not about anything serious.

So, Thea did the next best thing. She called Six.

He answered right away. "World's greatest chef speaking, here to bring you heart disease and happiness. How may I feed you?"

"Cooking are we?" Thea replied.

"Just a little. What's up?"

"I was working on my English essay, but I'm stuck, and I thought you might be able to help. Think you could pick me up at school?"

"Sure thing, Kid. Be there in ten minutes."

"It takes 20."

"Not for me."

Exactly ten minutes later, Six pulled into the parking lot. There was a plate of cookies in the passenger seat. Thea picked them up as she sat down.

"In case we get hungry," Six said, a half-eaten cookie in one hand.

"In the next ten minutes?" Thea asked.

"I'll go slower with you."

Thea took a bite of one of the cookies. It didn't make everything okay, but it helped a little.

"So, are you really working on an English essay?" Six asked. He didn't sound accusing or even particularly interested.

"Kind of," Thea replied. "I'd have it done already, but this stuff with Oliver is distracting me."

"Which stuff?"

"I don't really think you'd understand."

"Why not?"

"Because stupid, impulsive decisions are your specialty."

Six shrugged. "Okay, well, first of all, rude. And second of all, my decisions are carefully calculated to _appear_ stupid and impulsive. It throws people off. So what did your idiot brother do?"

"Okay, say somebody tries to mug your sister. What do you do?"

"Probably let her handle it. She's more than capable. I mean, if she wanted my help, I'd shoot the guy or something."

"Are we talking about me, here?"

"Sure."

"Well, you're a better brother than Oliver in this imaginary scenario, then."

"Somebody tried to mug you?"

"Yeah, and I kicked his ass. Then Oliver offered him a job."

"That does seem to be taking altruism a little too far."

"I told him it was crazy, but he wouldn't listen. It's like he gets these ideas in his head, and nothing can change his mind."

"Hey, sounds a lot like you—ow!"

Thea had punched Six's arm, causing him to swerve slightly. "Watch where you're going."

"You know, I can survive a head-on collision a lot easier than you can. Actually, I did that once… or twice."

"Please don't try to tell me you were the inspiration for _The Fast and the Furious_."

"I mean, Vin Diesel is definitely some kind of experiment. Or maybe a robot."

Thea shook her head. "I don't really believe you were experimented on."

"You doubt my sincerity?"

"Most of the time."

Six's face twisted in a comical facade of pain. "I'm hurt."

Thea scoffed. "Can you even be hurt?"

"A little. But it would take more than you accusing me of making up stories."

"If it were true, would you be hurt?"

"It is true, and I'm not. It doesn't matter if you believe me."

"I would hate it if someone didn't believe me."

"That's because you're so honest all the time. The truth matters to you."

"While you're honest all the time, but the truth doesn't matter to you?"

"Something like that."

"You don't make any sense."

"Never said I did." Six parked on the street outside of Laurel's building. "We're here. Laurel won't be home for another hour, so the therapy session will have to wait until then."

"If I really needed therapy, I wouldn't have called you." Thea got out of the car, taking the cookies with her.

They headed inside. When they reached the apartment, the warm smell of cookies and something else greeted them. Thea set her schoolbag and the cookies on the counter and sat down on one of the stools.

"What do you know about _Romeo and Juliet_?" she asked.

###

Deathstroke perched on the back of one of the dining room chairs, staring out the glass doors onto the balcony and chirping at the birds. Slade watched him from the living room, wondering what might happen if he opened the door. He identified strongly with the cat in that moment, that casual desire to kill something but the inability to do anything about it.

After Thea called, Slade tried to work up the energy to call Felicity like he said he would. Instead, he had spent the last hour watching the cat with his phone in his hand. Bruce still wasn't back, but he had mentioned something about needing to see someone. Slade hadn't really been paying attention. Knowing him, he was trying to smooth things over with Oliver and probably doing a little business on the side. Slade was still angry at Oliver, though he couldn't say exactly why. It wasn't as if the kid had said anything he didn't have legitimate reason to believe.

Slade ran his hand through his hair, feeling the slight soreness in his fingers from punching Oliver. That was probably out of line. At some point he would have to apologize. Assuming Oliver was interested in speaking to him again. Slade began to think he shouldn't have come back with Oliver. He was only complicating things and getting in the way as Oliver tried to help him instead of focusing on his own problems.

And it wasn't as if Slade didn't need help. But the kind of help he needed wasn't the sort Oliver or anyone else could give. It had been too long since Slade had given up on trusting people that way. Even Bruce couldn't completely break through.

Slade stood and dialed Felicity's number without another thought. He paced across the living room as he waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" came the slightly distracted voice of the young computer expert.

"Hello Felicity," Slade replied. "I understand you've been asking after me?"

"After you? No, I mean, what?"

"You wanted to know when I got back. I've been in town a few days, but I've been…"

"You didn't find them, did you?" Felicity sounded crestfallen. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Listen, I want to be sure you destroyed everything you had on this search. Delete the files, shred the printouts, everything."

"Uh, yeah, sure. But aren't we going to keep looking?"

" _We_ are not going to do anything. You've done more than enough, Felicity. I'll be fine on my own."

"You don't sound fine—I'm sorry, I know you're not supposed to say things like that, but it's true."

Slade chose to ignore that comment. "Thank you for everything," he said. "Take care of yourself."

He hung up before she could reply. It may have been abrupt, but he had to cut her out of his life now before she got into any trouble with ARGUS. Six already knew she had helped Slade, and it was only a matter of time before Amanda found out as well. And she would not be so forgiving of the interference.

###

The Bruce Wayne that most people knew was a friendly, sociable man. Which was a perfect excuse for him to stop by Laurel Lance's apartment to have a word with his old "friend" Colton Six.

Bruce almost preferred rooftops.

The sound of voices and laughter echoed down the hallway before Bruce even reached the door. It was difficult for him to imagine Six being at the center of all that, but perhaps he had changed. Unlikely.

A woman answered the door with a surprised look on her face—even more so when she realized who her guest was.

"Good evening, Miss Lance, I'm sorry to bother you," Bruce said. "I wondered if I might speak to your… boyfriend?"

Laurel recovered from her shock. "Six? You're here to see Six?"

"We go way back." Bruce smiled what he was certain was a convincing smile.

"Well, come in, Mr. Wayne, we're just about to have dinner." As they walked through the entryway and into the kitchen, Laurel called, "Six, you have a visitor."

A younger woman sat at the counter, reading a textbook, while Six pulled a covered dish out of the oven and set it next to a bowl of shredded beef.

Six looked up, and for a fraction of a second he actually seemed surprised. He recovered quickly. "I didn't think I'd see you lurking around here," he said with a smile.

"I don't see why not," Bruce replied. "I'm in town for a few days, and I had some concerns about our mutual friend."

Six looked meaningfully at Laurel and the other girl who Bruce was fairly certain was Thea Queen. Six thought he was talking about Adeline. Typical. He couldn't seem to work up any sympathy for Slade.

"Why don't you stay for dinner," Laurel said. "I've never met any of Six's friends."

"And there's the whole famous billionaire thing," Thea said, closing her book and putting it away. "We want to hear the whole story."

"It couldn't be all that interesting to you, being a part of a famous billionaire family yourself," Six replied.

"Well, if you'd been friends with Oliver, I'd want to know that too."

"I would love to stay for dinner," Bruce interjected, answering Laurel's invitation. "I think you are Six's first normal girlfriend."

"Hey, that's not fair." Six pointed a spoon at Bruce. "And you know how I hate labels."

"We're having tacos," Laurel said, as if trying to keep the conversation from getting off track. "Six made the tortillas himself."

Bruce smiled. "I'm sure it's delicious. Alfred isn't particularly fond of Mexican food."

They all sat down around the counter, and Six passed out plates while Laurel poured iced tea for everyone.

"So you were going to tell us how you know Bruce Wayne," Thea said, gesturing toward Six with the same hand that held her taco.

"My half-sister grew up next door to him," Six said.

Laurel stared at him. "You have a sister? Where is she?"

"Adeline died in a plane crash about six years ago," Bruce said. "She's actually part of the reason I'm here."

"Don't tell me it's about that half-witted Neanderthal of hers."

"See, this is part of the problem. Your negativity is making matters worse."

"I really don't care."

"You don't care about anything. That's not the point. You might try to be sympathetic for Adeline's sake, at least."

Six huffed like a petulant child. "He's just so… emotional."

"It's not a character flaw; it's his personality. I don't want to have to keep flying out here because you set him off."

During the conversation, Laurel and Thea ate and watched like they were witnessing some sort of entertainment. When Six didn't respond, Laurel posed a question.

"So, who is it we're talking about here? Your sister's…"

"Husband," Bruce said, knowing Six wasn't about to answer the question. "I believe you know him: Slade Wilson?"

Laurel smacked Six's shoulder. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"We don't exactly get along."

"Yeah, but I watched his cat, and he gave me cinnamon rolls. Plus no one gets along with you."

"In this case, the feeling is mutual."

"Thought you didn't have feelings."

"I have one feeling."

"You would have to to dislike the one person you need to get along with," Bruce said. "If you aren't going to be sympathetic, at least leave him alone."

"You told me to get him a cat," Thea said suddenly, staring at Six with a confused expression. "He doesn't like cats, does he?"

"That was supposed to be a joke," Six said. "But it backfired because he actually does like the cat."

"I've met the cat," Bruce said. "He's lovely. And Slade needs something to take care of with… with his family gone."

"If I promise to leave him alone, can we stop talking about this?" Six asked.

"Fine, if that's the best you can do."

"It is."

Thea finished the last few bites of her taco and stood, grabbing her bag. "I'm gonna go. See you later," she said.

Laurel got up and followed her out into the hallway, where their muffled voices came through the door.

Six kept eating. "Was there a point to all that?" he asked through a mouthful of taco.

"The more they know, the less isolated he will be," Bruce said. "You may not care, but at least the distraction will keep him from continuing his search for now. It's in everyone's best interest."

"Should I tell them all about your activities, then?"

"Don't make empty threats, Six. We're on the same side here."

"Bet it kills you to admit that."

"Don't get a big head. I consider you a moderate annoyance."

"Guess I'll have to up my game."

"Never mind. You're incredibly annoying. The most annoying person in the world. Happy?"

"Aww, you shouldn't have, Sherlock."

Bruce shook his head. "Don't call me that."

###

Laurel could tell by the tone in Thea's voice and the slump of her shoulders that she was upset.

"Where are you going?" Laurel asked when they were in the hallway.

Thea turned back. "You're not my mother," she said. "And she doesn't ask either."

"I didn't mean it like that." Laurel took a step closer to Thea. "I know you're upset by what Six did. I am too."

Thea shook her head. "I talked to Slade earlier. I could tell he was having a bad day, and he said to call you. Said you were my best friend, and we needed to work things out. So, I called Six to pick me up, and now it turns out, he's been messing with all of us like it's some big joke."

"Because it is a joke to him. He doesn't see the harm he's doing. And I'll talk to him about it. But Slade was right too. We do need to work out our issues. I know you felt like I was shutting you out, and I never meant for that to happen. I just… I wanted to protect you because you were all I had after Sara…" Laurel shook herself, trying to keep her composure. "The point is, I'm sorry I overreacted. I still want you to be part of what I'm doing. I trust you more than anyone."

Thea stared for a moment as if trying to decide whether to believe Laurel or not. Then she took two steps forward and hugged Laurel. "I know," she said. "You're like my sister, and I never want to lose that."

"You won't."

Thea let go and took a step back. "I have to go," she said. "I need to make sure Slade is okay."

"Do you need a ride?"

"No, I'll get a cab. You should stay. Figure out what's going on in Six's head. If you can."

Laurel smiled weakly. "We always seem to make progress. Slowly. This might be harder, though. He doesn't talk about the past much."

"Maybe his sister was someone he really cared about."

"She must have been."

###

Rose was crying.

Adeline looked at the clock on the nightstand. 12:34 a.m. She dragged herself out of bed and down the hall to her daughter's room. Rose had always been sensitive, easily scared. Adeline didn't know where she got that from.

The five-year-old was sitting up in her bed, tears streaking her face, squinting in the light coming from the hall.

"It's all right," Adeline said, sitting on the bed next to her. "You're safe."

Rose wrapped her arms around Adeline's waist and cried into her shirt.

"Shh." Adeline stroked Rose's hair and rocked her back and forth. "It was just a bad dream."

"The bad guys are gonna get us," Rose sobbed. "They're gonna find us."

"They can't find us, remember? We're hiding."

"No, they'll find us. They want to hurt us."

Adeline hugged Rose closer. She wasn't wrong. Whatever snatches of memory she had from when they fled their home must have taken root in her mind somewhere. They came out in her dreams almost every night. Rose wasn't afraid of some bogeyman under the bed or ghost in the closet. She was afraid of ARGUS, though she didn't know it's name, of Amanda Waller and all her cronies.

All Adeline could do was tell Rose they would be safe. She knew they would. She had taken measures ahead of time in preparation for an event such as this. By then, it was too late to find Slade and bring him with them.

And they hadn't left soon enough to spare Rose from the nightmares. Adeline began to wonder if she would ever be free of them.


	13. Not What You'd Call Normal

**Chapter Thirteen "Not What You'd Call Normal"**

A knock at the door interrupted an intense session of staring at the wall. At first, Slade thought it was Bruce coming back, but he'd given him the spare key. Which meant it was someone he didn't want to see.

Deathstroke raced to the door, eagerly awaiting whoever might be on the other side. Maybe Slade could train the cat to entertain company while he hid in his room. He looked through the peephole, and was surprised to find Thea standing outside his door. Her conversation with Laurel must not have gone well.

Slade opened the door just enough to have a conversation, but not to invite her in. Deathstroke wiggled around his feet to get out and rub against Thea's shoes.

"Sorry," she said. "I know you didn't want company."

"I take it things didn't go well with Laurel."

"What? Oh, no, that was fine. We didn't get a chance to talk about Oliver, but it doesn't really matter now."

"Then… why are you here?"

"Bruce Wayne came by to talk to Six. He told us about…"

"My family?"

"Yeah. And about Six being your—"

"Don't say it."

"Okay. I just… I'm sorry. I know you already told me about losing them, but… it's worse now, isn't it?"

"You don't need to worry about it."

"But I do. Worry about it. You don't have to talk to me, but you can if you want. You were there for me when I needed to talk to someone, so I'm here if you need it."

"That isn't how this works."

"How what works?"

Slade gestured from himself to Thea. "I'm happy to help you when I can, but you can ask your brother: I don't talk about this. To anyone. I would rather everyone stopped asking."

Thea nodded, though she clearly didn't like what she was hearing. "Okay," she said. "I won't ask. But my offer still stands if you change your mind."

"Do you need a ride home?" Slade asked.

"No, I have a cab waiting. I figured you might not want to talk." Thea reached down and scratched Deathstroke's ears. "Take good care of him for me," she said to the cat before rising and turning to leave.

Slade watched her go until she turned the corner toward the stairs. Then he picked up the cat and went back inside.

###

The team of jewel thieves rounded a corner, and Oliver pushed himself to keep up. The burn in his muscles was a strange comfort. At least this part of his life made sense. At least here he was doing something good.

"You're coming up on some traffic," Diggle said. He was positioned on a rooftop and feeding Oliver information through the comm in his ear.

Oliver put on a burst of speed as he turned the corner and saw the thieves running down the sidewalk half a block ahead. The next intersection was the busy one. He needed to catch them before they reached it.

The thieves stopped short as if in response to Oliver's thought. But he soon realized there was another reason. Two smaller figures in dark clothing stood in front of them, one brandishing a nightstick and the other a small recurve bow. Apparently, the Black Canary had a friend.

The smaller woman fired an arrow at the thieves' feet, releasing a cloud of smoke that temporarily blinded them, giving Oliver the opportunity to come up from behind and disable them.

The three masked vigilantes soon had the thieves zip-tied on the sidewalk to wait for the police.

"You never said you had a partner," Oliver said through his voice changer.

"I never told you a lot of things," the Canary replied.

"A few more encounters like this and we'll be best friends."

"I already have a best friend." She nodded toward the archer woman who was wearing a red hood and mask. "But I'd settle for a friendly acquaintance."

"Oliver?" the other woman said. Her voice wasn't altered. He knew her.

His stomach plummeted. This wasn't happening. "Thea?" he hissed.

"You've got to be kidding me," the Canary said, her voice suddenly normal. Laurel's voice.

"What is going on here?" Oliver demanded.

"We could ask you the same thing!" Thea replied.

"Let's get out of the street," Laurel said. "The cops will be here soon."

The three of them hurried down a side street and found a secluded alley. In the dark with all the hoods and masks, Oliver could imagine he didn't know the identities of his companions, but everything suddenly became very clear.

He turned to Laurel as they reached a quiet spot. "So you're the Black Canary, that makes sense," he said. "But my sister? She's seventeen!"

"And standing right here!" Thea interjected. "Those idiots didn't even have weapons, so I don't know what you're worried about."

"Thea, you're chasing criminals in the middle of the night. Do you realize how dangerous that is?"

"I think it's probably more dangerous to be a criminal right now with you around."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Those guys you killed? You did do that, right?"

"Thea, it's—"

"Don't you dare tell me it's complicated. It's not complicated, Oliver."

Laurel stood between them as if to break up a fight. "Whatever our differences, I think we can all agree we want to help the people of this city, right?"

"Right," Oliver agreed.

"Right," Thea echoed.

"So, now that we all know who we are, why don't we see if we can work together. I'm done arguing about who should and shouldn't be fighting. That's a choice we all have to make for ourselves. And, Oliver, if I thought Thea was in any significant danger, I wouldn't have brought her tonight. We have a system. She stays behind the computer when there are guns involved."

Diggle's voice crackled in Oliver's ear. "I hate to break up the party, but the cops are here, and you should probably disappear," he said.

Oliver looked down the street both ways for any signs of movement. "Come on," he said, headed back the way he had come originally.

"Where?" Thea said, hurrying to catch up.

"Somewhere we can have a normal conversation."

###

The basement beneath the old factory looked like a serial killer's nest. Laurel tried not to think too hard about that comparison. She shared Thea's concerns over Oliver's methods, but she thought making peace was more important at the moment.

Mr. Diggle leaned against one of the tables and crossed his arms as if to watch an entertaining show.

"You've been doing this since you got back?" Thea asked, gesturing around the room.

Oliver hung up his bow and lowered his hood. "Pretty much," he said.

"Why?"

He stared at her as if he hadn't expected that question. He struggled for a moment, looking for an answer, or deciding if he wanted to answer truthfully. "Something Dad said," he finally replied. "He said 'right my wrongs.' This city is full of people who get by at the expense of everyone around them. We were those people."

"I know." Thea nodded. "Why do you think I do this? It's not just a fun hobby. The alternative is a life of meaningless parties and drugs, and in the end it's all for nothing." Thea paused. "So, I guess it wasn't really fair that I criticized you for partying with Tommy all the time. Though, the whole killing people thing is still not cool."

"Some people need to die."

"And you get to decide that? Ollie, we're in this to help people, remember?"

"It's all I think about anymore. I can make the sacrifice of conscience that others can't."

"Is that how you justify playing God?" Thea shook her head and paced across the room. She threw her hood back and ran her hand through her hair. "Does Slade know?"

"Leave him out of this," Oliver said sharply.

"Why?"

"If he wants to tell you himself, he will. Don't hold your breath."

"Bruce Wayne came by my house," Laurel interjected, realizing Oliver might know more than they did about Slade and Six's connection.

Olive nodded slowly as if confirming this suspicion. "I saw him earlier. Slade never mentioned he knew him or that he knew Six until today. Come to think of it, Slade didn't actually tell me either of those things."

"What do you actually know about him?" Laurel asked.

"Enough," Oliver replied. "It doesn't matter."

Oliver seemed to be holding something back. Laurel recognized the look he had when he wanted to say something but wouldn't. It was no use trying to pry it out of him either.

"We should all get some sleep," she said instead. "We can work out the details of this arrangement later."

"And we agree to tell no one else of this?" Oliver gestured at the four people in the room. " _No one_ else."

"Well, Six does work with us," Thea said. "We can't keep it from him."

"You especially need to keep it from him."

"Why?" Laurel asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Figure it out," Oliver said, ignoring the question. "He can't know about me."

Laurel was beginning to get the feeling she didn't know Oliver or Six or anyone like she thought she did. She glanced at Thea, the only person she was really sure of anymore. Working with her brother could compromise Thea's focus. Laurel had to make sure that didn't happen, even if it meant quashing moral debates she would rather see to their conclusion. She promised herself she would discuss Oliver's methods with him later.

###

The apartment smelled like dish soap when Laurel returned from Oliver's hideout. She knew Six couldn't have been scrubbing pans the whole time, so Bruce must have stayed for a while after she left. He was gone now though. The only sound was the scraping of a scratchy pad against the metal pot in the sink.

"Should you be scrubbing so hard?" Laurel asked.

"What?" Six replied, looking up and frowning in confusion.

"The gunshot wound on you shoulder?"

"Oh, that's fine. I heal fast."

"Right." Laurel sat down at the counter and stared at her hands, trying to figure out how to begin the conversation she didn't want to have.

The scrubbing continued. She could almost imagine they were fine, and no one needed to say anything. That was how it was at the best of times. They could talk or sit in silence for hours, and it was all fine. But nothing was fine right now. All the secrets Six kept were coming back on them. He needed to be more open, but Laurel didn't know if that was going to happen.

"How was it?" Six asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"What? Dinner?"

"No, the field trip."

"Oh, it was fine. The green guy showed up again. He wants to team up."

Six placed the pot in the dish drainer and dried his hands. "You think that's a good idea?"

"Yeah, he seems to have the same goals we do. I don't always like how he does things, but that's something we can talk about."

"Look at you—got your own little crime fighting empire."

Laurel rubbed her neck, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Yeah, something like that."

"Okay, what is it you want me to do?"

"What?"

"I mean, obviously I've upset you, so what do you want me to do differently? I'll see if I can."

Laurel took a long breath. So here it was. "You manipulated Thea into being part of a petty joke."

"Is that a question?"

"No. It's a statement. Do you see what the problem is?"

"I didn't think she'd actually do it. Besides, Slade loves the stupid cat. Joke's on me."

"It was your intentions that bother me. You've never cared enough to be vindictive before."

"I think that's an overstatement."

"The way you talked about him to Bruce… No, I don't think it is."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters because you don't dislike anyone. You annoy people, but it's never mean-spirited. Why would you dislike someone who seems like a decent guy?"

"Seems being the operative word."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing."

Laurel frowned. "What did he do to your sister?"

Six tilted his head and shrugged. "She's dead. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Did it ever?"

"What?"

"Did she ever matter to you? Because if she mattered when she was alive, she matters now. If she doesn't matter now… she never did."

Six bit his mouth thoughtfully. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think… I should have told you about Adeline sooner." He laughed. "It's something we have in common. Slade never hurt her, if that's what you're thinking. It was… Maybe it is petty. I just think she was better off without him. I don't care about people, generally. I don't feel attachments. But I did—I do—for her. I probably don't have as much reason to hate Slade as he does to hate me. But he brings back a lot of bad memories."

"So that's why you didn't tell anyone about him when he first showed up? But then why didn't you just avoid him?"

"Well, like you said, I like to annoy people. And I have so much material for him. The fact that he hates me just makes it easier."

"You know that's childish, right?"

"I never said I wasn't childish."

"But you will leave him alone now? Like you said?"

"Yeah, Bruce was right about that—he's right about most things. It is what Adeline would want."

Laurel nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Well, I know I could never change your opinion of anyone, but as long as you won't _do_ anything underhanded, that will have to be enough."

Six walked around the counter and put his hand on Laurel's neck where the tension was radiating from. He rubbed his thumb in circles. "You know, you really are a saint for putting up with me," he said. "Why do you do it?"

Laurel sighed. "Aside from the awesome neck rubs?" she asked. "Because you're good for me. Sometimes it might not seem like it, what with your lack of feelings and all, but you're practical and you don't take things too seriously. You don't tell me what to do or try to control my life. But sometimes you give good advice. You have your issues. We all do. I have a tendency to overreact, so we balance each other out."

Laurel turned in her seat, breaking Six's hold on her neck. "Just promise me something," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Anything for you," he replied, staring back.

"Don't ever manipulate Thea like that again. And don't ever manipulate me."

Six nodded slowly. "Of course."

###

Bruce came back late. Slade looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised by how much time he had spent mindlessly flipping through his cat training book.

"I didn't think you'd still be up," Bruce said, walking into the living room and picking up a sleeping Deathstroke from a chair before sitting in it.

"I slept late," Slade replied, looking back at the book but not really seeing the pages.

"I don't think he really needs that."

Slade looked up at Bruce. "What?"

"The book." Bruce scratched Deathstroke's ears. "He clearly doesn't need it."

Slade tossed the book onto the coffee table. "It's something to do."

"So you need it?"

"I know you're trying to do that thing where you ask questions and try to make me come to the conclusions you want, but why don't you just say whatever it is you're thinking so this conversation doesn't last all night?"

Bruce smiled. "Your patience has grown shorter."

"Did you want to talk about all the other ways I've changed in the last six years? That really would take all night."

"You need something to do." Bruce traced the patterns in the cat's fur without breaking eye contact with Slade. "I don't think that one book is going to keep you occupied for long."

"There's only one thing I want to do."

"I know. But in the meantime, you may have to work up the motivation to do something you don't hate."

"I am open to suggestions."

"Isn't your friend starting a new business?"

"Oliver? He's opening a nightclub. I cannot overstate my disinterest."

"Still, there may be something for you to do. You should try to keep busy."

"Why?"

"Because you're only making yourself feel worse by hiding out here all day. You'll drive yourself crazy."

"This is supposed to be helpful?"

"You don't want people feeling sorry for you. Action is the only thing that really helps. So find something to do." Bruce stood, still holding the cat. He chuckled softly. "You could get a job like normal people." He turned and headed for the spare room, leaving Slade alone again.


End file.
